


The Makings of Greatness

by IsaacTheGreat69



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Anxiety, Attempted Murder, Character Death, Deceit, Explosions, Fire, Gen, Injury, M/M, Manipulation, Murder, Mutiny, Near Death Experiences, Treasure Planet AU, Violence, some sympathetic deceit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-08 09:10:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 36,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18891547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsaacTheGreat69/pseuds/IsaacTheGreat69
Summary: When a dying salamander crash-lands in Virgil’s front yard, it changes his life forever. He must traverse across space to the furthest reaches of the galaxy with his dad’s friend, a stuck-up captain, and a shady crew before he can realize his dreams. Of course, things aren’t always as easy as they may seem.





	1. PROLOGUE

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this to post at my 1000 follower milestone and when I posted it I lost 2 followers X'D

“On the clearest of nights, when the winds of the Etherium were calm and peaceful, the great merchant ships with their cargos of Arcturian sura crystals felt safe and secure.” A large, bright wooden ship sailed through open space, drifting through golden clouds. A deep, dramatic male voice narrated its journey. “Little did they suspect that they were pursued by  _pirates_.” A smaller ship with red sails followed behind, seemingly coming out of nowhere, led by an alien with sallow features, fangs, and bony hands. “And the most feared of all these pirates was the notorious Captain Nathaniel Flint.”

Virgil watched with rapt fascination as the book’s technology bent light into moving pictures, turning the story into a 3D movie in front of him. Pirates and merchant crew alike broke out into conflict, firing upon each other. The sounds of wood splintering and cacophonous shouting rang out, only slightly muffled by the fact that the scene was, in fact, a sort of illusion. Men fell from the ropes as they were shot, descending into nothingness as their forms surpassed the limits of the book’s projections. The six-year-old pulled the book closer, grinning as he laid on his stomach and his feet kicked idly behind him, the glow of the book the only light in his otherwise dark bedroom.

His room was a decent size, mainly wood, with the back wall made of plaster and stone seeing as it was one of the building’s outer walls. He had a small desk that he almost never used, cluttered with space maps and schoolwork, of course. A modest rug was pinned under his bed, a chest at the foot of said bed, and several shelves were anchored to the walls, holding many of his toys – mostly alien figurines; either pirates or superheroes or something of the like, though tonight Virgil’s attention was focused on the projection before him.

“Like a Candarian sap-wing overtaking its prey-”

The door suddenly opens, and Virgil’s feet still, heart stopping. His eyes widen as light from the hallway spills into his room, illuminating a strip of his bed.

“Virgil Alexander Shae!”

Virgil rushed to shut the book, the pictures disintegrating and the narration slowing to a stop as the book fell to the bedsheets. He put his chin in his hands, looking anywhere but his dad. Maybe if he played it cool, he wouldn’t be as mad. That’s totally worked before, right?

Thomas sighs, hands on his hips. “I thought you were asleep an hour ago.” Virgil sits up and shifts so he’s sitting against the headboard, pillow against his back. His dad walks into the room, pale blue pajamas hanging off of his broad frame slightly wrinkled and short brown hair a mess from a long day of running his fingers through it. He sat beside Virgil, giving him an expectant look.

“Dad,” Virgil whines, grabbing for the book again, “I was just getting to the best part!” He smiles up at him, hugging the book to his chest. “Please?”

His dad laughs and he perks up slightly. Maybe he’d let him finish after all?

“Goodness, not the puppy eyes, you know I can’t say no.” He continues to smile up at his dad. Thomas lets out a put-upon sigh, moving to sit beside his son. “Scoot over then, love.” Virgil’s smile widens as he does what the older male asks. Thomas sits beside Virgil and wraps an arm around him and Virgil opens the book, the picture of Nathaniel Flint’s ship still front and center on the page. The narrator’s voice warms up, starting out slow and warped as it picks up where it left off before the deep and enthralling tone resumes its tale.

“Like a Candarian sap-wing overtaking its prey, Flint and his band of renegades swooped in!” The voice exclaimed. The pirates’ ship jumps off the page, sailing through the air. Metal claws dug into the merchant ship, anchoring it to Flint’s. The pirates grabbed onto their ropes, swinging over the cavernous distance to land on the deck of the merchant ship. Smug cheers rang out from the group as they descended upon the merchant ship’s crew. Conflict rang out. Weapons fired. Crew from both sides fought tentacle, claw, foot, and gun trying to either take the ship or defend it. Deflected shots crashed into the ship’s wood, sending splinters into the air and starting a blaze in the wreckage. Smoke billowed into the starry sky, the fire’s glow illuminating the all-out war between crews.

Flint’s men made it down to the captain’s private quarters, locating his personal riches. A sword swung up into the air, only to be brought down upon the golden lock, severing it in two and mangling the metal of the chest’s clasp. The chest was tipped over onto the floor, gold and jewels spilling out only to be scooped up in bony hands. Nathaniel laughed darkly, stuffing the riches he held into coat pockets before directing his men to take the chest back to the ship.

“And then, gathering up their spoils,” Nathaniel’s ship sailed off into the stars, heading straight for Virgil’s illuminated face, “vanished,” the ship glowed green before utterly disappearing from the page, and Virgil flinched. That part always got him, no matter how many times he read this story, “without a trace.”

“Whoa.”

“Whoa.”

Virgil looks up at his dad as they both speak, amusement dancing in Thomas’ eyes. He turns back to the book, turning the page, and blue light washes over their faces, fog coming off the pages.

“Flint’s secret trove was never found, but stories have persisted that it remains hidden somewhere at the farthest reaches of the galaxy,” the fog moves as the picture zooms further into the dark depths of deep space, idle meteors drifting past until the silhouette of a planet pushes through the fog, “stowed with riches beyond imagination.” The planet looms closer, two rings bracketing it in an ‘X’ across its center, one of them a glowing, misty green. “The loot of a thousand worlds.”

Virgil grins, speaking in time with the narrator. “Treasure Planet.”

His dad gently shuts the book with a fond smile. “Okay, time to go to bed, mister.” Virgil pouts. “Nope! None of that, you need to  _sleep_.”

Virgil sighs. “Fiiiiiiine.” Thomas moves to get up, setting the book on his bedside table. Virgil scrambles up onto his headboard, standing shakily on top of it, his small feet just barely fitting. “How do you think Flint did it, dad? How’d he swoop in out of nowhere-” He jumped from his headboard onto his bed, his dad reaching out to catch him but being too slow. Virgil rolls onto his back, looking up at Thomas. “And vanished without a trace?”

“I have no idea.” His dad sighed and shrugged, moving closer to Virgil. “Now… Come here!” He snatches Virgil into his arms, laughing lightly as the boy struggled to get away through his own giggles. “I’m gonna get ya!” Thomas pulls Virgil’s shirt up over his stomach and blows a raspberry into the skin, making him shriek with laughter. He settles, smiling down at his son. “Alright. Time for you to go to sleep, my little spacer.” He moves to tuck him in, tapping the tip of his nose and kissing his forehead.

“You think someone will ever find Treasure Planet, dad?”

Thomas smiles sadly, brushing a hand through Virgil’s hair. “I think it’s more of a… legend. A myth. I don’t think it’s real.”

Virgil looks up at him, his expression a mix of confusion and disbelief. “I  _know_  it’s real!”

He sighs, smiling. “You win. It’s  _real_.” He tucks Virgil in, kissing his forehead once again. Virgil smiles and closes his eyes.

“Nighty-night, dad.”

“Nighty-night, sweetheart.”

He gets up and leaves, closing the door behind him.

Virgil shuffles under his blanket and opens the book, its light bathing the small pocket of space he occupies and lighting his shadow. “There are nights when the winds of the Etherium are so inviting in their promise of flight and freedom, made one’s spirits soar!”


	2. Chapter 1

**12 Years Later….**

Virgil grinned as he sailed through the air, the wind whipping at his shirt, his jacket, his hair. He gripped the metal rail of his solar surfer tightly, taking in the ground rushing by under his feet, the gentle flapping of his hand-stitched solar sail.

He’d made his solar surfer a year or so ago from scrap metal and bits of scrap solar sails he found lying around. The body of the surfer itself was essentially a metal slab - well, several smaller slabs soldered together - shaped much like a surfboard with a solar powered thruster underneath, in the back. A joint mechanism connected the sail’s mast to the body, and a thinner railing curved along both sides of the sail horizontally for Virgil to hold and steer the direction of the surfer.

Light flickered throughout the hexagonal pattern of the sail, lighting the fabric and indicating its power. A breeze pulled the sail to the left and Virgil yanked it back into place with his guiding rail. The surfer dipped as Virgil left solid ground, sailing over a canyon. He steadied the craft, shifting his grip and taking a deep breath.

This is where he felt the most free, the most real. Here, sailing through the air at incredible speeds, he didn’t have to think about his life. He didn’t have to watch his dad run himself ragged trying to keep the Inn open. He didn’t have to mull over the fact that, as far as he knew, he and his dad were the only humans on Montressor, his home planet. He didn’t have to see the ghost of his pa everywhere he looked. He didn’t have to think. The soft roar of his solar surfer’s thruster and the wind rushing in his ears blocked out all thoughts, all negative feelings, until all there was left to focus on was the absolute freedom of flying. Being unbound from the struggles of daily life and hardships left unresolved.

Virgil took a hard turn, rising up into the clouds. He shot through the white fluff, coming out the other side with a smirk. He gave a brief glance to the ground far below and looked forward once again, making a split-second decision. Virgil shifted his right foot back, heel pressing into the button behind him that would collapse the solar sail. The sail’s post folds, bringing the cloth down with it to press against the surfer’s metal surface, and Virgil’s ascent stills. He throws his arms out as his body angles parallel to the ground, closing his eyes.

His body falls back and he crosses his arms over his chest, tucking them close to his body. He begins to rapidly descend from the sky, the wind twisting and flipping his body this way and that, the surfer hooked to his feet catching every gust and turning him. He flips end over end, spinning rapidly, with the brief reprieve of solid stillborn descent, before his surfer catches another gust and he’s sent spiraling again. His stomach fills with butterflies at the feeling, his chest feeling both light and constricted at once, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest.

He throws his arms out and his body flips to be righted once again, spinning through the air. He tucks his arms into his sides and lets his body be flipped upside down, spinning like a silver maple seed. The wind pulls aggressively at his body, his hair, his clothes. He can’t hear anything past the roaring gales his ears amplify the sound into and his own heartbeat. Virgil opens his eyes, seeing the ground fast approaching, and throws his arms out to right himself. Just as it seems like he’ll collide with the earth, he stomps on the button once again, igniting his thruster and unfurling his sail.

He pulls hard on the rail, turning the surfer until he’s nearly parallel with the ground, giving out a loud elated cry and extending his arm to ghost over the dirt below. He pulls up, narrowly avoiding colliding into the rock face of a split path by jerking himself to the right once again. He’s momentarily flipped upside down as the craft makes the harsh turn, his lips pulled into a wide grin. He straightens up just in time for his surfer to break through a wooden gate, setting off alarms.

He doesn’t hear the ringing screech past the wind in his ears, sailing quickly through some sort of facility. He pulls his guiding rail left, then right, twisting to avoid metal structures and pass through narrow gaps. He pulls down on the rail and the surfer meets the surface of a metal pipe, grinding along its surface. A loud metal screeching meets Virgil’s ears, sparks flying from where the bottom of his surfer meets the pipe’s surface. He’s practically bent backwards, the heat of the thruster warming his back, wind cooling the sweat on his brow. Virgil pulls off the pipe and grabs the surfer to haul it up, letting out an adrenaline-filled whoop.

He sails through the rest of the facility, coming up on some sort of spinning wheel-like structure. Virgil’s face sets into a determined grin. As he gets closer, he stomps on the button to collapse his sail once again and angles himself to pass through a gap in the wheel’s spokes. He zips through, passing just in time to avoid getting crushed as the gap closes. He pumps his fist with a wide smile. “Whoo!”

He hits the button again and grabs the guiding rail as the sail erects itself, rising up out of the canyon and into the sky. Virgil settles the solar surfer to fly straight, taking the reprieve to settle his racing heart and take in the view before him.

Then he notices the sirens.

Two robot officers rise up behind him, propelled upwards by their own thrusters, and he grimaces, rolling his eyes. “Great…”

* * *

A shabby Inn sits on a cliffside, the sign at the base of the walkway reading “Mind Palace Inn”. The roof is a composite of wood and metal, appearing in some places as if the metal was affixed to plug up leaks. Other than this strange fact, the building itself resembles a two-story cottage out of a fairytale. Inside, Mr. Shea spoons steaming meat into a serving bowl and sets it on a tray, picking the tray up to bring it out to the customers. As he turns to do so, a shrill voice calls out from his right.

“Mr. Shae!”

Thomas purses his lips before forcefully relaxing his face, turning to look at the old woman behind him. The cephalopodan woman holds an empty glass in one wrinkled tentacled hand, using the other to gesture to it. Mr. Shae sighs. “I know! Refill on the perp juice, coming right up Mrs. Dunwiddie!” He walks over to one of the tables where a family of anthropomorphic frog aliens sits waiting for their food. The father is reading a newspaper but sets it aside when Mr. Shae approaches, smiling lightly.

He puts on his best customer service smile and starts setting out their food. “Alright, four powdered spheroids,” he sets a plate of what looks to be colored donuts in front of the dad, “two solar eclipses,” he sets a plate of two sunny side up eggs with blue yolks in front of the mother. The son gags, making Thomas laugh, “and a bowl of Zorellian jelly worms, for the big boy!” he says, setting a large bowl of milky white insects in front of the boy. “Enjoy.”

He moves on to the next table as the boy starts shoveling the jelly worms into his mouth. Thomas rushes over to a man in the corner of the restaurant, sitting by the window with his face in a book.

“Sorry, Logan. It’s been crazy here all morning!”

Logan looks up from his book. He certainly wasn’t the strangest looking intergalactic customer Mr. Shae had, but he certainly wasn’t human. Instead of the normal human pinna on the sides of his head, he had bald, stout and floppy dog’s ears. A pair of spectacles sat at the base of his muzzle, and while he didn’t have sharp dog’s teeth per se, it seemed like he definitely could use the help of a pair of braces. He adjusts his glasses with stout, pudgy fingers and smiles kindly at Mr. Shae.

“It is not a problem, Thomas.” He sets his book on the table as Thomas walks away, taking a deep breath to take in the smell. “Ah, my Alponian chowder with the extra solara seed, fantastic.” He tucks a napkin into his shirt and grabs his spoon, beginning to eat. Just as he takes his first bite, an anthropomorphic frog girl with blond hair pulled into pigtails peeks over the edge of the table at him.

The girl had the green, vaguely slimy skin of a frog, along with the webbed fingers. She had two round eyes near the top of her head that blinked up at Logan frequently, fluttering her eyelashes. Her mouth was turned up into a small smile as she took a slight step back, brushing her hands down her pink dress and continuing to stare.

He looks down at her curiously, eyebrow raised. “Yes? Can I help you?” She just blinks at him. He rolls his eyes and goes back to eating.

The little frog girl straightens up, smiling up at him and watching him eat. Logan sighs, looking around. “Where are your parents?” After another silent blink, he frowns, starting to get annoyed. “Can you spe-” Suddenly her tongue shot out of her mouth, stealing the food off his spoon. He makes a disgusted noise and recoils as she smiles up at him then turns and skips off. Thomas walks up, a dishes-filled tray on his hip.

“Aren’t they just adorable at that age?”

Logan grimaces down at his spoon, setting it on the table. “Yes, deplorable. I mean- adorable.” He takes the napkin from his shirt collar and wipes his mouth, looking up at Thomas. “Speaking of which, how is Virgil?”

Mr. Shae sets the tray down at a vacant table with a sigh, looking tired as he picks up the dishes. “Much better. I know he’s had a… rough start, to this year, but I really think he’s turning a corner.” Just then, the front door opens, revealing two robot officers in blue and gold uniforms with Virgil, his head hung low, looking the very image of a dog caught misbehaving. “Mr. Shae.” A robotic voice calls.

Thomas turns around in surprise, dropping the dishes he’d been carrying and causing them to shatter. “Virgil!”

Logan looks down at his food. “Wrong turn,” he says dryly.

Virgil forces a grin, pushing a gloved metal hand off his shoulder and taking a step into the restaurant. “Okay, cool, thanks for the lift-”

“Not so fast.” The hand grips his shoulders again and the grin slips off his face. Shit. Another hand grips his opposite arm, hauling him further into the room and keeping him in place. “We found your son operating a solar vehicle in a restricted area.”

The other robot cop speaks up. “Moving violation nine-zero-four, section fifteen, paragraph…”

“Six?” Virgil mutters from between them.

“Thanks.”

Virgil rolls his eyes. “Don’t mention it.”

“Virgil.” His dad scolds. He looks away.

“As you are aware sir,” the first robot continues, “this is a violation of his probation.”

Virgil’s dad takes a step forward, holding his hands out placatingly. “Yes, yes, ah, I know. I- how about- could we just-?” He rubs the back of his neck in a flustered manner, his expression pleading.

Logan clears his throat, drawing the attention of the four in front of him as he stands, walking over to the officers. “Pardon me, if I could interject. I’m Doctor Logan Abbott, a noted astrophysicist.” This is met with silence. “No? I have a card-” Mr. Shae grimaces, biting his bottom lip.

“Are you the boy’s…. father?” One of the officers asks. Thomas pushes past Logan, standing in front of him.

“No!”

“Ah, wh-”

“No, no.”

“God, no.”

“I mean ew-”

Logan starts slightly, put off by Mr. Shae’s comment. He’s not that ugly, is he? I mean sure, his ears are a little floppy, and his nose isn’t human-  _he’s_ not human- but he’s not  _ugly_.

“He’s just a friend of the family!”

Both officers bend over to get in Logan’s face, shouting. “Back off, sir!”

Logan huffs and turns, going back to his table. “See if I ever try to help again…”

Mr. Shae sighs.

“Due to repeated violations of statute fifteen-C, we have impounded the vehicle. Any further violations will result in a trip to juvenile hall.”

Mr. Shae nods. “I understand. Thank you, officers.” The robots let go of Virgil, pushing him forward where Mr. Shae takes his arm. Virgil refuses to look at him. “It won’t happen again.”

“We see his kind all the time, sir.”

“Wrong choices-”

“Dead-enders-”

“Losers.”

Virgil grimaces, hunching his shoulders.

The officer’s tone does a complete 180, calling out a cheery, “Take care now!”

“Let’s go.”

Both officers turn around and wheel out of the restaurant, leaving Virgil and his father alone, if you didn’t count the room full of customers staring at the pair in shock. Someone clears their throat and all the customers turn back to their food, the room quickly filling with chatter and the clinking of silverware and dishes. Mr. Shae looks down at Virgil, who looks at the floor.

“Virgil, this is… too much. It needs to stop. Do you want to go to juvenile hall? Is that it?”

Virgil purses his lips and turns away, hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie. He looks around and grabs a nearby bus bin, silently moving to clear a vacant table of dishes.

“Virgil. Virgil, look at me,  _please_.”

Virgil’s eyes burn. He refuses to look at his dad as he continues.

“It’s hard enough keeping this place afloat. I can’t handle you going off and-”

Virgil turns around, forcing a carefree smile. “Dad, it’s not a big deal. There was nobody around; those cops just have it out for me.” Mr. Shae crossed his arms and looks at his son disapprovingly, and Virgil’s smile fades.

“Forget it.” Virgil turns back to continue bussing the table, grabbing the bus bin and moving on to the next one.

“Mr. Shae!” Mrs. Dunwiddie’s shrill, shaky voice cuts across the restaurant, drawing Thomas’ attention. “My juice!” She waves the empty glass around in one tentacled hand and Thomas frowns, raising his hands in a placating manner. “I’ll be right there, Mrs. Dunwiddie!” He turns back to his son. “Virgil, I just don’t want to see you throw your future away.” His lips draw into a frown as he turns to finally get Mrs. Dunwiddie her juice, and Virgil shoulders the door to the kitchen open.

“What future…”


	3. Chapter 2

Virgil sits on the roof of the Mind Palace Inn, leaning back against the chimney. The sky darkens overhead, thick lilac-grey clouds blocking out the sun. Virgil flicks a pebble, watching it bounce down the metal-and-wood roof only to disappear as it tumbled over the edge. He flicks another one and watches that one, too, fall. One of the round windows of the restaurant is turned slightly in its frame, open just enough to let the voices inside the building filter out. Virgil tunes the noise out; it’s not important, and besides most of the customers are gone.

A voice catches his attention, and he turns his head slightly to hear them better.

“-don’t know how you do it, Thomas. How you manage to keep the inn afloat and raise a felon- fellow like Virgil is… beyond my understanding.”

“Manage it? I’m at the end of my  _rope_. Ever since his pa left u- left, he… hasn’t recovered. And it’s not like- you know how smart he is; he built his first solar surfer when he was eight!”

Virgil lets out a small huff; a mockery of a laugh.

“But he’s still… He’s failing in school. He’s constantly getting in trouble, and I try to talk to him, but- he’s just… he’s like a stranger, Logan. I just… I don’t know. I’ve tried everything.”

Virgil doesn’t hear Logan’s reply; right then a small craft flies overhead, the sound of a failing engine drowning out all other noise. It’s not very big; an orb with fins to stabilize flight, only big enough for one person. Virgil watches it shudder and crash at the end of the dock, on the other end of the cliff, smoke billowing out of it. It rests precariously on the edge, and despite his better judgement Virgil finds himself slipping off the roof, landing in a crouch and running to help whoever just crash-landed on his proverbial front lawn.

Virgil reaches the craft quickly and knocks a little frantically on the door, his heart fluttering and pounding in his chest anxiously. “Hey, anybody in there? Hey! You okay?”

A reptilian hand presses against the window and Virgil flinches, taking a couple cautionary steps back. The door opens and an old greying salamander with four sharp incisors stumbles out with a small chest, wearing a coat and captain’s hat. He grips Virgil by his hoodie, pulling him close and looking up at the sky, looking around as if searching for a threat.

“He’s coming. Can’t you hear him?” He rasps out. “Those gears and gyros clickin’ and whirrin’ like the devil himself-!” He lets go of Virgil to pick up his chest, coughing roughly. Virgil swallows.

“You uh- you hit your head?”

“He’s after me chest.” The salamander grouses. He tries to pick it up but settles with dragging it alongside him. “That cyborg and his band of cut-throats…” He tries once more to pick up the chest, grimacing as he settles it on his shoulder. “They’ll have to pry it from old Billy Bones’ cold, dead fingers-!” He grabs at his chest, letting out a strangled cough and falling to his knees, dropping the chest. He continues to hack and cough, and Virgil steps forward, frowning with concern.

“Ah shit… Come on, gimme your arm.” He lifts the salamander’s arm and gets underneath it, helping to support his weight and helping him towards the Inn. “That’s it, come on…” It’s hard, and it takes longer than Virgil would have liked, but this salamander man is easily two or three times as big as him and he’s just grateful the alien hasn’t died or collapsed on top of him. Rain starts to pour as they leave the dock and reach the base of the walkway up to the Inn.

“Dad’s gonna love this….”

* * *

Mr. Shae observed the rain pouring outside for a moment with a frown. He moved to a dial by the window and turned it one notch, watching as the window shimmered before becoming a sandy beach at sunset. He turned it once more and let it settle on a bright field of wildflowers, glancing over at Logan as he pulled his coat on.

“Thanks for listening, Logan. It helps.” Thomas lets out a heavy sigh as he sits at the table the other had just vacated. Logan glances at Thomas with a slight frown before walking over to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “It’s…. It’s alright, Thomas. It’s going to be okay, I’m sure of it.”

Mr. Shae looks up at him and smiles, the image of a worn and weary single parent, hand idly playing with a locket around his neck. Logan takes a step back, picking up his books and preparing to leave.

“I keep dreaming that one day I’ll open that door and… He’ll be back to the way he was. A happy, smiling little boy, holding some animal he’d found and begging me to let him keep it.”

Logan frowns and opens the front door, revealing Virgil, who’s just barely holding up a nearly unconscious Billy Bones.

Mr. Shae gasps, standing as Virgil enters the Inn, practically dragging the salamander inside. “Virgil Alexander Shae, we-!”

Virgil gently let go of the salamander so he rests on the ground and Logan rushes to shut the door. “Dad! He’s hurt.” Mr. Shae frowns with concern and rushes to his son’s side. The salamander lets out a ragged breath, looking at Virgil.

“Me chest…”

Virgil grabs the chest and pushes it over to the salamander, who starts punching a code into the buttons with alien writing. “He’ll be coming soon…” The chest opens, and the salamander takes out an orb wrapped in a dark cloth. “I can’t let them find this!” He rasps out, holding it close and inspecting the cloth for signs of damage.

Virgil’s eyebrows furrow. “Who’s coming? What are you-”

The salamander grips Virgil’s shirt and pulls him forward, whispering in his ear. “The cyborg… Beware… The cyborg….” He lets go of Virgil and slowly slumps to the floor, letting out a final breath as his eyes close. Thomas gasps softly as his hand relaxes its hold on the orb and it rolls out onto the floor.

A low wailing, the telltale sign of a ship passing over, invades the air as a spotlight dances across the Inn’s windows. Virgil snags the orb and stuffs it into his pocket, looking up to see if he can spot the craft from any of the windows. His palms start to sweat and his heart beats faster. This isn’t good; if the salamander was right, that was probably some blood-thirsty maniac hell-bent on getting… whatever this thing was in his pocket. He couldn’t let that happen. He didn’t know why, but he had a bad feeling about it.

He moved over to one of the windows - all of which still held the illusion of a bright field of flowers - and turned the dial ever so slightly to create a small gap in the image. He glanced out, catching the silhouette of several large aliens as lightning flashed overhead. He let the field restore itself and grabbed his dad’s hand, pulling him up the stairs.

“We gotta go.  _Now_.”

Thomas let out a sound of surprise, but followed him nonetheless. Logan reached for the door handle, ever the curious one, just as a light canon blasted right through it and burnt a hole in the door. Logan’s heart skipped a beat and he turned to race up the stairs, following Virgil and Mr. Shae.

More light canon blasts shot through the Inn, damaging furniture and severing the ties to the light fixtures. The large chandelier fell to the ground, knocking a lantern over in its descent which caught the floor ablaze. The front door burst open and men flooded in, throwing destroyed furniture out of their way in their search. The cyborg paused over the body of Billy Bones and scowled at the sight of his empty chest.

Logan pushed the window to Virgil’s room open, the sound of the rain hitting stone echoing in his ears. He looks down at his cart, calling out to the creature strapped to it.

“Delilah!” The creature looked up - a strange likeness to an armless dinosaur if it had frog’s skin - and made a sound of happiness, jumping slightly to reach her master. “Delilah, don’t move!” He called out.

Down below, pirates were tearing the Inn apart, searching every drawer, cupboard, and room for their prize.

“Where is it?!”

“It has to be here somewhere!”

The cyborg growled. “Find it!” He pointed up the stairs.

Virgil looked over his shoulder at the sound of the cacophonous war cries coming from the crew, their shadows caught in the growing fire’s glow and dancing across the wall behind him. His eyes widened and he gripped the open door with increasing strength and rigidity, his fingers going numb.

“Don’t worry Thomas, I’m an expert of physical science. On the count of three, jump. One,” Virgil heard his dad give half-hearted protests, observing the jump with hesitance. “t-” Virgil took a running leap at the pair, pushing them out of the window. “Three!”

Logan and Mr. Shae landed in the front seat, Logan immediately grabbing Delilah’s reins. Virgil crash-landed in the back, turning over to look up at his bedroom window engulfed in fire. Logan pulled on the reins and Delilah took off, leaving the sight of the fire-engulfed Inn burned into Virgil’s retinas.


	4. Chapter 3

“I just spoke with the authorities. The pirates appear to have vanished without a trace.” Logan sat across from Thomas in his large study in front of the fire, frowning as he leaned forward to look his friend in the eye. Virgil placed a blanket around his dad’s shoulders. “I’m sorry, Thomas. The Mind Palace Inn has burned to the ground.”

Virgil opened his mouth to say something - explain himself, apologize for the whole thing - but nothing came out as he took in his dad sitting hunched in on himself, utterly defeated. He closed his mouth and turned to walk away, wishing he’d just stayed inside that day. Logan watched Virgil walk away and handed Mr. Shae a cup of tea. “Certainly a lot of trouble over some… sphere.”

Virgil picked up the golden sphere off Logan’s desk. He’d finally unwrapped it on the way to Logan’s house, but no amount of staring could tell them what it was. It had lines intersecting it in odd directions, broken up by the occasional intermittent circle. He looked it over again, passing it between his hands.

“Those markings baffle me…”

Virgil tuned Logan out, watching the firelight dance across the orb’s surface. As he passed it between his hands, he randomly pressed on some of the circles, pausing when each one simultaneously sunk into the orb. He turned it over in his hands again when he realized it wasn’t going to do anything else and noticed that a few of the lines seemed to be less superficial than the rest. He gripped the orb and twisted. Just as he’d thought, part of the orb twisted along with his hand. He turned it again and twisted the other way, and suddenly bright light-blue light shot out from the orb.

Virgil didn’t even hear Logan let out a scandalized, “Hey!” as he watched the light expand until it encompassed the entire room in a large spherical grid. Smaller lime-green lights sprouted within the illusory cage the three stood in, slowly forming into swirls, dots, and spheres. Logan looked around curiously as all the objects moved in tandem, sweeping to the right as if brushed aside.

“Is it… a map?”

All the figures settled until they resembled something more along the lines of a smaller-scale, 3D galactic map. Virgil turned to glance curiously at a holographic planet resting beside his shoulder. Logan walks over to one sphere, pointing at it. “This is us! The planet Montressor.” He adjusts his glasses and pokes the hologram, which holds firm under his finger. As soon as the contact is made, the map is suddenly moving, zipping past as if the planets are trying to run away from them in the opposite direction.

Virgil grins as he watches planets and stars pass him, their light illuminating his features.

“That’s the Magellanic Cloud! Ah-! The Coral Galaxy!”

Virgil glanced at what Logan was pointing to, poking the spiraling light-blue mist and watching it disperse, only to reform as it drifted past him.

“That’s the Cygnus Cross… the Kerian Abyss….” Logan turned as the figures seemed to become more disperse and scarce, one singular planet looming closer. He adjusts his glasses, squinting. “What’s this…?”

The map stops moving, and all other structures fade away except for the planet in front of them. Virgil grins. He knows what this is; he’s only spent his entire childhood obsessing over it.

“Treasure Planet.”

“No….” Logan adjusts his glasses again, disbelieving.

Virgil laughs lightly. “That’s Treasure Planet!”

“Flint’s Trove? The Loot of a Thousand Worlds?” Logan turns to regard the humans standing beside him. “Do you know what this  _means_?”

Virgil lets out another little laugh, tossing the orb up and catching it in his hand. “Oh yeah. It  _means_ , all that treasure’s just a boat ride away!”

Logan doesn’t take his eyes off the holographic projection, an undercurrent of awe slowly bleeding into one of desire. “Whoever brings it back would hold an eternal spot atop the pantheon of explorers. He’d be able to-”

The hologram suddenly disappears, the fire relighting the room. Logan jumps. “What just..?”

Virgil smiles, looking down at the golden orb in his hands and walking over to his dad.

“This is it! It’s the answer to all our problems!”

Mr. Shae sighs. “Virgil,” Virgil’s smile instantly falls. He knows that tone. “There’s no way-”

“Come  _on_ dad! Don’t you remember the stories?”

He purses his lips. “That’s just it, Virgil. They were  _stories_.”

Virgil groans. Why can’t he see what he’s trying to say here? “With all that treasure, we could rebuild The Mind Palace a hundred times!”

“Can’t you see this is just- it’s- I mean-” Thomas turns to Logan, who’d been silently contemplating to himself until Thomas spoke to him. “Logan, please, tell him how ridiculous he’s being?”

“It’s absolutely foolish, to traverse the galaxy on one’s own,” Mr. Shae smiled at Virgil. “Which is why I’m coming with you.” His smile disappeared and he looked at the man disbelievingly.

“ _What?_ ”

Logan grins, moving to gather supplies from around his study. “I’ll use my finances to fund the expedition, I’ll commission a ship… Hire a captain and crew.”

“You can’t be serious!” Mr. Shae pleaded. Logan turned to look at him, bag in hand.

“I’ve waited my entire life for an opportunity like this. You can’t expect me to just… pass it up!”

Mr. Shae sighs. “Okay, okay! You know what? You’re both grounded!”

Virgil fiddles with his hands for a moment before looking up and walking over to his dad. “Dad… I know I keep messing everything up. I know…” He sighs. “That I let you down…” Thomas frowns, his hand at the back of his neck falling slowly to his side. “But this is my chance to make it up to you! I’m gonna set things right.” Mr. Shae looks like he doesn’t know what to say. The longer the silence goes on, the more Virgil hunches into himself.

“Thomas? If I may…” Mr. Shae turns to Logan. “You said as much yourself; you’ve tried everything. There are…  _worse_  remedies, than a few character-building months in space.” Thomas studies Logan’s expression.

“Are you saying this because it’s the right thing, or because you want to go?”

Logan smiles guiltily. “I want to go. But it  _is_ the right thing.”

Mr. Shae looks back at his son. Sensing his eyes on him, Virgil looks up at him. Thomas sighs, taking a step closer to him, brushing his hair out of his face. “I just… don’t wanna lose you, Virgil.”

Virgil smiles kindly, cupping his dad’s hands in both of his. “You  _won’t_ , dad. I promise. I’ll make you proud.” Mr. Shae’s concerned frown turns into a sad smile.

“Well, if that is all, we shall begin preparations immediately. Virgil, ready yourself. We’ll embark for the spaceport soon.”

Virgil nods. He was going to fix this.


	5. Chapter 4

If Virgil thought his home at the Inn provided him a window to the galaxy, the space port was like blowing a giant hole in the wall. It was massive, nearly impossible to navigate. The entire thing existed as a hodge-podge of white buildings and layers of docks, lifts, catwalks and pathways all in the shape of a crescent just on the edge of Montressor’s orbit. From the planet’s surface, it looked like a moon permanently stuck in the crescent phase. The entire port glowed, giving off a faint light - just like a real moon - and ships of all sizes sailed to and fro overhead, either docking or taking off. Aliens from all corners of the galaxy milled through its pathways, the strangest of them all being Virgil, the only human in sight.

Virgil looked around in complete wonder as he got off the transport ship. Fellow passengers passed him by, giving him dirty looks. A heavy-set anthropomorphic frog woman with a small head and a strange furry pet in her arms, a man who almost looked human - if it weren’t for the anteater snout on his face or the leathery, bald skin covering his entire body -  a man wielding some sort of stringed instrument over his shoulder with tendrils for hair, grey flesh, and the nose of an elephant seal all passed him by as they exited the ship. He wasn’t focused on them, though. He was looking at the space port. It was like a sci-fi M.C. Escher artwork; Virgil’s eyes were dazed trying to decipher where one catwalk met another, where that pulley system was anchored, how those people below him reached the top pathways. If he looked closely, he could see the gaps between the structures, and the brief thought of falling into empty space unnoticed brought him back to attention.

He didn’t want to have to explain to his dad that the entire trip got cancelled because Logan wasted his money recovering Virgil from his float through deep space.

“Virgil? Virgil!” Logan called behind him, finally making his way off the ship. While Virgil had elected to bring nothing - what could he bring? His entire home burned down - Logan had brought several bags of varying sizes containing…. God knows what. He’d said, ‘you never know what you might need when traversing uncharted territory into the realm of piracy’. Whatever that meant.

Virgil turned just as Logan got off the ship and had to laugh. Logan was wearing possibly the  _weirdest_ get-up he had  _ever_ seen in his life, and that’s saying something. He was wearing some sort of space suit; an imposing, bulbous thing in mustard yellow that clanked and shifted with every step, a few buttons resting below the rim of the helmet and a large red…  _thing_  on the stomach. Logan pressed a button that released the lock on the glass faceplate, giving Virgil a forced kind smile. “Well, if nothing else, this shall be an… opportunity to get to know each other, I suppose.”

Virgil rolls his eyes. “Look, let’s just find the ship. This place is a fucking maze.” He starts walking, Logan trailing after him silently. Virgil shrugs it off.  _He’s only being nice to me because of my dad… And because I have the map._  He huffs and starts walking faster.

* * *

“Second berth on your right.” The robot calls down from the ladder he’s climbing.

“You can’t miss it.” comments the stout, red alien steadying the ladder.

Virgil gives a grateful smile. “Thanks.” He turns to descend the staircase, leaving Logan to catch up. Logan huffs and hurries down the stairs, hesitant to lose Virgil in the crowds.

“It’s the suit, isn’t it?” Virgil doesn’t answer. “I should’ve never listened to that two-headed sailsman. This one said it fit, that one said it was my color… I just get so flustered in those situations, I suppose. I’ve never been good with handling people.” Virgil stops, and Logan nearly runs into him. He stops just short of the teen and looks up. “Ah, yes, here we are. The I.M.G. Nation.”

It was a nice-looking ship, with a smooth cream-colored body and amber trimmings. Large solar sails rose high above them, held aloft by amber-and-gold-plated masts. Virgil climbed the catwalk up to the ship, grinning. “Whoa…”

Pulley systems delivered crates onto the deck, directed by crew and pulled into place before being released from their ropes. All around crew bustled about, maintaining the deck, managing supplies, and following directions to prepare to embark. Virgil stopped short as a crew member bustled by, taking extra precautions to make sure he wasn’t in anyone’s way.

“Stow those casks forward! Heave together, now!” A man called from the base of the main mast. His lean and fit form was made of stone, but not in the sense that his body was a collection of stones pressed together; it was as if his entire body was one large stone with chiseled edges, somehow granted the ability to move and flex and bend. He wore a couple medals pinned to the breast of his blue coat and a tricorn hat atop his head, completed with cream-colored pants and black boots.

Virgil turned in a circle, watching crew members move about the masts and use the ropes. “This is so cool…” He took a couple steps backwards, bumping right into someone. Virgil flinched, spinning around to apologize only to be met with what appeared to be a very angry… blob? Slug?

The blob alien had many… tentacles? Snouts? Along its pale body, holes cut into its vest to allow for them to rest freely. A few more protruded from its face where a mouth and nose would be. “S-sorry, I didn’t-” The alien let out what Virgil could only think of as farting noises from its…. okay, guess those are snouts? And raised its fists as if declaring a fight. Virgil took a step back, eyes widening. Not even on board for five minutes and he’s already gotten in trouble.

Logan walks up behind him. “Excuse me, ah…” Logan blew a few raspberries, filled his mouth with air and pushed his cheeks in to release it, and made a few armpit-fart sounds. The alien stared at him for a moment before letting out the farty equivalent of a laugh and flapping its hand in the universal “oh stop, you!” gesture, slithering away.

Virgil blinked. What just happened?

“I’m fluent in Flatula, Virgil. It is an incredibly complex language that takes years to master. I studied it in high school.” Logan informed the human with a smug grin before continuing to cross the deck.

“Flatula, huh?… Cool.” He grinned and followed after the astrophysicist.

Logan walked up to the stone man, extending his hand. “Good morning, captain. Is everything in order?”

The stone man took his hand with a soft smile. “Indeed, it is! But I’m not the captain. The captain’s aloft.” He gestures up to the masts, Virgil and Logan looking up.

A cat-like man swings from a rope effortlessly, landing along a supporting beam and running across it before grabbing another rope and using the momentum of the swing to jump to the deck, landing on his feet with an elated cry.

He was lithe, of average height, but everything about him was pure muscle and power. His jaw was angular, almost small, and he had a broad nose that ended with a pink, leathery tip and nostrils, much like a real cat. His ears were wide and pointed, set higher on his head than a human’s, his chestnut hair styled perfectly side-swept and voluminous, and he wore a red-and-gold jacket, cream colored pants, and white gloves. He crossed his arms, grinning at the newcomers before making his way over, speaking in a regal tone.

“Mr. Picani! I have checked this ship from stem to stern and-” His tone softens, “it’s spot-on, as usual. Can you get nothing wrong?” He grins at the stone man, his first mate.

Picani tips his hat. “You flatter me, captain!”

The captain moves on to Logan and Virgil, pausing as he takes in Logan’s suit. “Ah… Doctor Abbott, I presume?” He speaks louder, slower, as if he expects Logan to be of a lower intellect. “Excuse y-” The captain knocks on the glass plate, grinning. “Hello~! Can you hear me?” Logan scoffs and pushes the glass plate up from where it had fallen during his walk to the ship. “Yes, I can! Stop that; it’s highly fatuous.” The captain puts a hand to his chin, grinning as he watches Logan struggle to get the helmet off and fail.

“If I may, this suit works better when it’s turned to the right,” he grabs the red thing on the suit’s stomach, turning it to the right. A plug pops out, “and plugged in.” He grabs the plug and forcefully turns Logan around, plugging it into the bag attached to the suit’s back. “There you go! You’re welcome.”

The helmet comes off with a pop and Logan turns to glare at the captain. “I can manage my own equipment; your assistance was not necessary.” The captain takes his hand and shakes it, looking around almost as if he were bored, if it weren’t for the self-satisfied smirk on his lips.

“I’m captain Roman Amamoto, I’ve had a few run-ins with the Protean armada, but ah! I won’t bore you with my scars.” He winks and Logan huffs in annoyance. Roman moves to Mr. Picani, nudging him with his elbow. “You’ve met my first mate, Mr. Picani. Sterling, tough, dependable, honest, brave, and true.”

Mr. Picani laughs lightly. “Please, captain!”

“Oh shut it, Picani, you know I don’t mean a word of it.” From the grins the two share, that must be some inside joke of theirs. Logan clears his throat.

“While I’d hate to interrupt this…  _lovely_ banter, may I introduce Virgil Shae?” He wraps an arm around Virgil, drawing him closer to the adults and pulling his attention away from the hustle and bustle of the ship. “Virgil is the one who found the tre-”

Roman clamps a clawed hand over Logan’s mouth. “Doctor, please.” Two nearby crewman who were evidently listening in go back to working. Roman sighs. “I’d like a word.”

* * *

The door of the stateroom shuts, and Roman turns the lock, turning to regard the two men standing before his desk. “Doctor… to run your mouth about a  _treasure_ map in front of  _this_  crew shows a level of simple-mindedness that borders on the imbecilic. And I mean that in a very  _caring_ way.” He grins almost mockingly. Virgil has to stifle a laugh. Who knew someone would actually school Logan in something? Who knew there was someone out there who could make Logan look like an idiot?

“Imbecilic? That’s foolish, I’ve-”

“May I see the map, please?”

Logan looks at Virgil. Virgil shrugs helplessly. Logan sighs and gestures to Roman. Virgil grimaces slightly, taking the orb out of his pants pocket and tossing it to Roman. “Here.” Roman catches it effortlessly, turning it over in his claws to inspect it with interest. He grins. “Fascinating.” He levels a serious look at Virgil as he turns to lock the orb in a small chest, hidden in his armoire. “Mr. Shae, in the future you’ll either address me as Captain or Sir, is that clear?”

Virgil scoffs and rolls his eyes. Roman’s ears perk up. “Mr. Shae.”

Virgil ducks his head, glaring. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Roman locks the armoire and turns back to the others. “This is going to remain under lock and key unless in use. And, doctor, again.” He leans into Logan’s space, getting in his face. “With the greatest  _possible_ respect;  _zip_ your  _howling_ screamer.” Logan scoffs indignantly.

“Captain, I assure you, I-”

Roman sits at his desk, fiddling with a drafting compass. “Let me make this as simple as possible. I. Don’t much care. For this crew.  _You_ hired.” He points the compass at Logan accusingly and Logan crosses his arms, eyebrow raised. “They’re… How did I phrase it, Picani? I said something rather creative before coffee this morning…”

Emile’s eyes drift towards the ceiling as if the memory will surface on the wood. “‘A ludicrous parcel of driveling galoots’, sir.”

Virgil raises an eyebrow. Wow, what?

Roman grins. “There you go! Poetry.”

Logan purses his lips, gripping the table. “Now, see here-!”

Roman stands over Logan, smirking. “Doctor, I’d love to chat - tea, cake, the whole nine - but I’ve got a ship to launch, and you’ve,” He flicks Logan’s suit with a claw, “got an outfit to buff up.” He straightens back up and crosses his arms behind his back, all business once again. “Mr. Picani, please escort these two neophytes to the galley. Mr. Shae will be working for the cook, Mr. Moran.”

Virgil looks up from where he’d been messing with some swinging wall decoration, his hand dropping to his side. “Wait,  _what_? The  _cook_?”


	6. Chapter 5

Logan’s every angered step clanged along the wooden staircase down to the galley, face pinched and absolutely fuming. “That man, that…  _feline_! Who does he think is working for whom?”

Virgil stops next to him. “Hey, it’s  _my_ map, and he’s got me bussing tables?”

Emile walks up behind them, gripping their shoulders. “I will  _not_ tolerate a bad word about our captain. There’s no finer officer in this galaxy.” He lets them go to continue through the galley, following Logan and Virgil. Logan stomps ahead, pausing as whistling catches his ear.

Past several rows of large wood tables to the kitchen, a man moves about, whistling a strange tune to himself as he works. “Mr. Moran!” Emile calls.

The cook straightens up, wiping his hands on his apron and smiling. “Ah, Mr. Picani, sir! Bringing such fine,  _distinguished_  men to grace my humble galley.” His voice is smooth and deep, strangely lulling. He steps out of the shadows the brick stove casts across the kitchen, bowing in good fun with a grin spread across his face. “Had I known, I’d’ve tucked my shirt in.” He laughs at his own joke.

His entire right leg had been replaced with a hydraulic prosthetic; it was an accordion-like mechanism down to the calf, where it turned into a simple metal peg, easy for walking. His right arm was also all machine, though this one far more impressive. Virgil wasn’t sure how it worked, exactly. The top half was simple machine, with typical gears and compressors, while his forearm was a massive, rounded metal shell with long slits in its surface. It was definitely unique, and strange. His left eye and the surrounding flesh were replaced with a machine as well, a golden eye that held a focus lense that could zoom in and out at will and a mechanism where the ear would be to process sound. When he smiled, the skin around the edges of the metal in his face would bunch up. Aside from that, he looked as though he might be a similar species to Logan; small, floppy ears (or, ear…), stout, chubby fingers, and an animalistic nose, though he didn’t have a muzzle. In that respect, he was more like Roman. He wore a plain white shirt, partially covered by his apron, and a loose pair of black pants.

Virgil already didn’t like him. It didn’t help that he was a- Virgil gasped, a phrase ringing in his head. “Cyborg….”

“I came to introduce Dr. Abbott, the financer for our voyage.”

Mr. Moran’s eye turns red, and a laser shoots out to dart across Logan’s suit, taking him in. “ _Love_  the outfit, doctor.” He chuckles. Logan resists the urge to cover himself like some exposed damsel.

“Thank you. Interesting eye.” He turns to take Virgil’s arm, pulling him forward. “And this is Virgil Shae.” Virgil gives Logan a scandalized look as the man backs away, leaving Virgil at the cyborg’s mercy.

Mr. Moran thrusts his hand out- or, what used to be a hand. It was now replaced with five tools; a drill, a knife, a strange cross between a mace and a bat, pliers, and scissors. “Virg-o!” Virgil rolls his eyes, shoulders tense as he studies the tools in front of him. Mr. Moran pauses for only a brief moment before tsking himself, and suddenly the metal casing of his forearm is splitting open, and a rotating mechanism is switching the tools with a robotic hand; bare joints and pads for gripping. His grin broadens as he waits, but Virgil just glares up at him. Mr. Moran shrugs, moving back into the kitchen.

“Don’t be too put-off by this… hunk of hardware.” As he speaks, the hand is replaced with scissors. His flesh hand reaches up and grabs a grouping of some alien shellfish, pulling them down and using the scissors to snip the tendrils attaching them to the ceiling. The scissors are then replaced with a multi-purpose tool that he uses to cut open the shellfish, gut them, and toss them into the frying pan with minimal movement. The tool rotates through the functions as it works, so all he has to do is move his arm from one shellfish to the next. The tool is then replaced with a large knife that he uses to cut up some vegetables. He slips his flesh arm into the sleeve to make it seem like he cut his hand off. “Whoa!” He brings his arm up and the sleeve falls down, revealing his uninjured hand, and he grins.

Parlor tricks. Virgil isn’t a  _child_.

The knife is replaced with three small claws, which he uses to break and dispense the contents of three eggs. “These gears have been tough getting used to, but… they do come in handy.” The claws leave to be replaced by a torch, which Mr. Moran lights under the pan as he carries it to the brick stove, dumping the contents into a pot and mixing them together with a normal ladle.

“Now, how about you two try my famous bonzabeast stew?” He spoons out and hands them two bowls; Logan sniffs his curiously. “It’s an old  _family_  recipe.” Mr. Moran grins as an eye pops out of Logan’s stew, startling him.

“In fact, that’s part of the family.” He chuckles and grabs the eye, popping it in his mouth. As Logan looks at him, scandalized, he raises an amused eyebrow. “I’m only  _joking_.” He nudges Virgil. “Your friend can’t take a joke, can he?” Virgil shrugs, side-eyeing Mr. Moran. “Go on, try it.”

Mr. Moran moves back to the kitchen to finish preparing the food and Virgil spoons some out, glancing at it skeptically. Suddenly, the spoon curls around the food and swallows it, turning pink. Virgil gasps as it grows eyes, its full mouth grinning up at him.  _What the…_

The rest of the spoon turns pink as it swallows the food and jumps out of Virgil’s hand, seemingly floating in mid-air.

“Morph!” Mr. Moran’s voice calls out fondly. The pink blob smiles and sticks its tongue out at Virgil playfully. It turns into a straw and lands in Virgil’s stew and he watches curiously as it sucks it all up. “You little blob of mischief, so that’s where you went off to.”

Morph turns back into his pink blob form and plops into the now-empty bowl, sighing contently. He burps and flies out of the bowl, rubbing up against Virgil’s cheek happily. “Whoa-” He puts his hand up to block it, the feeling of its weird, almost wet slime-like texture unsettling. “What  _is_ that thing?”

“What is that thing?” The blog echoes in a higher-pitched voice. Virgil pokes it and it disperses into smaller blobs before coming back together and shifting into a much smaller copy of Virgil. Virgil squints, and it squints back.

“He’s a  _morph_. I rescued him on Proteus.” Morph goes back to his pink form and flies over to Mr. Moran, cuddling against his neck. “He took a liking to me, and we’ve been together ever since.” He pet the blob with a finger as it cooed happily, smiling.

A bell tolls outside, and Emile clears his throat. “We’re about to get under way. Would you like to observe the launch, doctor?”

“Ah, yes, let’s. I must admit I am rather curious to see the process first-hand.” Logan heads for the stairs, and Virgil moves to follow.

A stone hand extends in front of him, blocking his path. “Virgil, you’re staying with Declan, under his charge.”

Declan coughs when he chokes on the stew he’d been testing, wiping his mouth and straightening up to look at the first mate. Virgil’s eyes widen in panic.  _Please don’t leave me with the psycho cyborg, please please please…_

“I… Beg your pardon, sir, but-”

“Captain’s orders, Declan.” Emile states with an air of finality. “Make sure you keep him busy.”

Virgil’s shoulders drop. Oh, right. He was the pest. The unwanted guest.

“Oh, but wait, you can’t-”

Emile disappears up the stairs.

They both sigh.

In a breath, they’re both on guard, arms crossed and chins up, surveying each other.

“So, captain’s put you with me….”

“Whatever.”

Declan shrugs, going back to work. “Ah, well. I wouldn’t be a  _humble_  cyborg, to argue with the captain.”

Virgil’s eyes narrow. Have to act casual.

He grabs a purple fruit from an open barrel, tossing it between his palms. “You know… these purps, they’re kind of like the ones back home… on Montressor. Ever been there?” His heart was beating hard in his chest. What would happen to him if Declan found him out? Would he kill him?

“Can’t say I  _have_ , Virg-o.”

“It’s  _Virgil_.”

Declan shrugs, back facing Virgil, and he huffs, pulling himself up onto the countertop. “Actually… now that I’m thinking about it, I met this old guy just before I left that was looking for his cyborg friend.” He takes a bite of the purp.

“Is that so?” Declan asks, tone easy.

“Yeah… What was his name? Oh, right. Billy Bones.”

Declan raises an eyebrow. “Bones. Bones…?” He grabs the large bowl he’d been working over, moving it to the other side of Virgil. “Doesn’t ring any bells. Must’ve been a different cyborg. There’s a  _lot_ of us out there…”

Someone whistles overhead, drawing both men’s attention.

“Prepare to cast off!”

Declan grins, gently pushing Virgil off the counter to reach a bottle behind him. “Go watch the launch. There’ll be plenty of work for you when you get back.” Virgil gives him a skeptical look before sauntering up the stairs. Declan hums, holding out a cracker for Morph.

“Better keep an eye on him, huh, Morph? Wouldn’t want him getting into things he shouldn’t.”


	7. Chapter 6

“All clear, captain!” a petite grey tentacled alien called from the lookout, his three eye stalks extending to look down at the deck below.

Roman smiled, turning to Emile. “Well my friend, are we ready for takeoff?”

Emile grins. “My pleasure, captain.” He turns to the crew, calling out. “All hands to stations!”

The deck bursts to life, crew running to and fro to reach their stations and prepare for takeoff. Virgil made it to the top of the stairs, looking around curiously at all the aliens running around. He’d never seen a ship take off from the vantage point of the ship itself. He was kind of worried, as silly as it sounded.

He watched as a female alien - almost human-like in appearance, bone thin, body stopping right below the arms so she was little more than a head and two limbs - and a rotund vomit-green man with tentacles for hair resembling dreadlocks both climbed the shrouds nearest him, many other crew members doing the same on the others.

“Loose all solar sails!”

The crew stood on the supporting beams and grabbed their ropes, releasing the sails from their drawn-up positions to unfurl, tying the ropes in place. Virgil watched the half-circle shaped sails simultaneously billow out, already catching on a breeze. A fish-like crew member bumped into him as they took a step back to pull a rope into position, whirring around to growl at Virgil in exasperation. Virgil stumbled away, muttering an apology, cheeks burning.

The ship rose into the air, no longer tethered to the dock and solar sails gathering energy to power the thrusters. Roman grinned, feeling the thrill of an impending journey squeeze his chest and steering the ship to turn around, directing it away from the space port. Virgil watched with a wide grin as light danced through the sails from the top down, lighting the hexagonal pattern and brightening the power indicators on the sails’ masts, Virgil’s breath catching at the sight.

This was significantly cooler than his scrappy homemade solar surfer.

Below deck, a crew member watched as the power reserves slowly filled, readying himself to pull the lever to ignite the thrusters. Above deck, anything not tied down - mainly the crew and passengers - began to float away from the ship as it rose away from the space port’s artificial gravity. Roman, arms crossed and calm as ever as he rose into the air, called out. “Mr. Snuff! Engage artificial gravity.”

The Flatula man that Virgil had ran into earlier turned to Roman and gave an aerated response, turning to the lever inset on the post beside him and pulling it. In a split second, all inhabitants of the ship fell to its surface. Roman and Emile landed on their feet as if they had never moved, while Virgil stumbled and Logan landed on his face. Virgil snrked.

“Full speed, Emile.”

Emile nods and grabs a metal tube sticking out of the floor, a sort of communication piece running from the deck to the control room. “Take her away, fellas!”

“Brace yourself, doctor.” Roman muttered. Logan scoffed.

Below deck, the crew member watched the reserves fill and pulled the switch, the thrusters igniting and sending the ship into flight. Logan was sent flying, his suit being the only thing between him and a bad headache as he collided with the wall behind him. Roman’s body shifted with the sudden inertia but stood resolute, a smug grin on his face. Virgil climbed up the ship’s shrouds, clinging to the rope with one hand, half hanging from the structure as he watched the space port quickly grow farther away, a giddy grin overtaking his features.

The wind whipped at his clothes and his hair, the free feeling of hanging on to life by a rope and a sure foot pulling his stomach into his pelvis. The feeling of being alive lit his skin and made his heart race. Virgil loved it. He opened his eyes, unaware of having closed them, to catch the sight of dozens of galactic whales flying through the air. His eyes widened and he leaned just a little bit more. “Whoa…”

Dozens of large blue-and-white whales floated through the air with a level of ease as if swimming in the ocean. They had spottings of red along their backs and around their large eyes, and surrounded the ship on all sides, flying in V-shaped groupings. A galactic whale passed by just yards from the ship, and Virgil came face-to-face with one of its large amber eyes.

Logan gasps softly as he watches the creatures pass. “Orcus Galacticus… How fascinating…”

Roman watches the awe on Logan’s face with slight amusement.

“It’s a grand day for sailing, wouldn’t you say, captain?”

Roman turned to face Declan, who stood on the main deck. Morph zipped around his shoulders cheerfully. Roman’s eyes narrow as Declan shoots him a charming grin. “And look at you, you’re as trim and as fit as a sloop with new sails and a fresh coat of paint.” His robotic fingers skate along the surface of the deck’s trim. Roman preens under the compliment momentarily before shaking his head, narrowing his eyes at the cyborg.

“You can keep that flattery to your space port floozies, Moran. I’m not interested.”

Morph morphs into a miniature Roman, placing his hands on his hips and swaying them teasingly. “Space port floozies! Space port floozies!” Roman’s cheeks heat and he opens his mouth to retaliate.

“I speak nothing but  _the_   _truth_ , captain.” Declan replies smoothly, sweeping Morph into his tricorn before placing it on his head.

Roman rolls his eyes, his gaze locking on Virgil still in the shrouds. “Isn’t that your cabin boy? I suggest you stop running your mouth and do your job.”

Declan’s mouth twists into a scowl and he turns away, stalking over to Virgil. Roman’s shoulders relax. Something about that cook rubbed him the wrong way.

“Virg-o!” Virgil turns to look at Declan, the light, carefree expression still on his face. “I have two friends for you to meet,” Virgil looks around, curious. Declan rolls his eyes, “Mr. Mop, and Mrs. Bucket.” He holds up a mop in one hand and a bucket in the other, and the happy grin evaporates from Virgil’s face.

Declan tells himself the strange feeling in his chest is from the eye he ate as he disappears back down into the galley.

* * *

Virgil drags the wet mop across the deck, back and forth monotonously. “This is bullshit…” He grumbles to himself. “I’ll show you Mr. Mop, you stupid-” Someone bumps him from behind, sending him stumbling a few steps. He turns around to tell them off only to come face-to-face with a largely-muscled grey four-armed alien with a red face. The alien who’d been listening into their conversation earlier that day.

“Watch it, twerp.” He grumbles before walking away.

Virgil scoffs and goes back to mopping, his bored and restless gaze wandering over to three crew members chatting across the deck. The short multi-eyed alien from the crow’s nest is talking to the large man Virgil had watched climb the shrouds earlier and one other large magenta-colored alien. The new addition is the one who notices Virgil staring, nudging the other two to get their attention. The conversation stops, and Shrouds Guy scoffs. “What are you lookin’ at, weirdo?”

Suddenly his head detaches from his body, his tentacle dreads acting as legs to walk his head onto the barrel he’d been leaning on. His arms, which were folded over his chest, drop to lay at his sides and expose a face on his abdomen. “Yeah, weirdo.”

Virgil’s eyes widen in shock and he looks away.

A soft hissing sound comes from the shrouds above him, and he looks up just in time to see some sort of crustacean-spider-thing in a black leather jacket crawling down the ropes. Six long thin legs move his lithe body with such ease it looks as if he’s walking on flat ground. When he gets low enough, his front legs extend to stretch himself over Virgil and settle in front of him, looming over the scared teen.

Virgil’s heart hammers in his chest as large, gold eyes narrow at him. “Cabin boys should learn to mind their own business.” He hisses, pinchers at the sides of his mouth moving as he speaks. Virgil swallows, shoulders tense.

“Why, got something to hide, Bright Eyes?”  _Jesus Christ can’t you keep your mouth shut just once in your life you idiot._

The crab-spider dude rears back with an annoyed sneer and grabs Virgil’s shirt in his claws, lifting him off the ground. Virgil’s legs kick as he lets out a startled yelp, clawing at the alien’s claw. He isn’t sure if he’s trying to get out or trying to make sure the freak doesn’t drop him.

“Maybe your ears don’t work so well.” And oh, god, his  _breath_.

“Yeah, eugh, too bad my nose works just fine.”  _No no no no you idiot shut up he’s going to kill you he’s going to throw you over-_

The spider-crab guy snarls and shoves Virgil into the main mast, the metal digging into his back. At this point other crew members have gathered around the pair and start jeering, egging spider-crab to just throw Virgil overboard, or cut his fingers off, or an ear, teach him a lesson, teach him some manners.

“Any last words?” His claw reaches towards Virgil’s face, and Virgil’s blood runs cold. His stomach hits his feet and his heart is beating so fast that for a moment Virgil can’t tell if it’s beating at all. Just as the sharp tip pokes the soft flesh under his chin, a metal hand clamps around its base, pulling forcefully. Crab-spider grunts in discomfort, turning slightly to glare at Declan who looks all too casual for the tense atmosphere.

Declan takes a bite out of the purp in his flesh hand, grinning. “Mr. Solares, have you ever seen what happens to a fresh purp when you squeeze it hard enough?”

Declan’s grip on Remy’s claw tightens and Virgil realizes that it’s not his hand, but a metal clamp. Remy grunts in pain and releases Virgil, who lands in a crouch and scuffs away, heart still hammering in his chest. The surrounding crew give annoyed and exasperated cries, clearly not satisfied that Declan’s interfered with their fun. Declan lets go of Remy’s claw and Remy grimaces, flexing it to make sure it’s okay.

“What’s going on here?”

Emile descends the stairs and all chatter silences. “You know the rules; there is  _no_ brawling on this ship. Any further offenders will be confined to the brig for the remainder of the voyage.” He stops in front of Remy, glaring down at him. Virgil notices Remy has lowered himself to be beneath the first mate, curiously enough. Emile enunciates as he leans in, expression completely unamused. “Am I clear, Mr. Solares?”

Remy grits his teeth. A light catches his eye and he looks over to Declan, whose eye’s turned red and focused in on him. Remy turns back to Emile. “Crystal,” he grits out.

Emile turns away, satisfied, and heads back indoors. Declan grins at his retreating back, shooing off the crew as he calls out, “ _Well done_ , Mr. Picani. A tight ship is a happy ship, wouldn’t you say?” As soon as the deck is clear, Declan’s expression sours and he picks up the mop, turning on Virgil who still stands by the mast. “I gave you a job, Virg-o.”

Virgil scowls. “I was  _doing_ it until that bug thing-!”

“That’s enough!” Declan spits. “I want this deck swabbed spotless! It better be done by the time I come back.” He turns. “Morph.” Morph flits to Declan’s side. “Keep an eye on him. Let me know if there are any distractions.” He sends one last scathing look to Virgil before heading back towards the galley, and Morph flits over to Virgil, making a point of watching him closely. He even jokingly morphs into an eyeball, but Virgil just scoffs and goes back to mopping.

* * *

Declan descends the stairs, pausing at the base of the stairway as he takes in the sight of the crew scattered among the tables. He paints a charming grin onto his features as he calls attention to himself.

“So, we’re all here.” All chatter peters out as the crew turn to face Declan. “Fine. Now,  _pardon_ my candid speech, gentleman, are you all-” his hand changes to a large blade and he swings at the man with the tentacle dreads, the head jumping up just in time to avoid the cut. “stark- _raving_ -” he swings at the multi-eyed lookout, who ducks and gets the tip of his tricorn cut. “totally  _brainlessly_ insane?!” He shouts, face twisted in rage. The crew all shrink back, some even cowering in their seats. Declan paces the isle between the rows of tables.

“After all my work, talking us up, getting us hired as an  _upstanding_  crew, you want to blow the whole thing?!”

Remy sneers. “The boy was being nosy.”

“How about you leave the talking to me, you  _bug-brained twit_. As for the boy…. I’ll run him so ragged he won’t have time to think.”


	8. Chapter 7

The natural light had long-since disappeared, all lights on deck having been turned down or completely off to simulate the passage of time from afternoon to evening. Virgil dragged the mop back and forth, back and forth, thinking silently to himself. He’d been brooding too much in his thoughts over the past couple of hours, going over what had happened in his mind so many times there was scarcely anything else he could think about. Every time he imagined the angry flash of those golden eyes or recalled the feeling of being lifted into the air and shoved into the mast his heart sped up and he had to stop what he was doing to take a breath.

And here he was, thinking of it all again.

Breathe, Virgil.

Morph changed into a small mop, giggling as he swabbed the deck - and Virgil’s boot - before flitting back up to grin in Virgil’s face. He hiccupped and bubbles came out; Virgil laughed lightly and rolled his eyes, long past seeing Morph as in-league with Declan the Creepy Cook. He sighed, slumping and using the mop to prop himself up.

“It sure has been an  _exciting_ day, huh, Morph? I made some new friends, like that  _spider psycho_.” He wiggles his fingers in a sardonic imitation of Remy’s long legs. Morph laughs and turns into Remy, raising his claws above his head and wiggling his legs to match Virgil’s fingers along with his words. “Spider psycho! Spider psycho!”

Virgil laughs lightly. “Nah, a little uglier.”

Morph pulls a thinking face before hiding his face behind his claws, then suddenly he’s throwing them up again and cackling in his high-pitched voice, Remy’s eyes and fangs decidedly more accentuated, making him look almost cartoonish. “Pretty close.” Virgil snickers. Morph bows before returning to his pink form.

“Well, well.”

Virgil turns to see Declan ascending the steps with a large bowl of scraps, heading for the edge of the deck. “Thank  _heavens_ for little miracles. I’ve been gone nearly three hours and you have yet to destroy the deck.” He tips the bowl over, emptying its contents into deep space.

At least they were biodegradable.

Do things degrade in space?

Probably.

Virgil was thinking too much.

Virgil sighed. “Look, uh…” He really had been thinking too much. While he was working, he kept thinking about what happened, yeah, but he also kept thinking about how Declan saved him from almost certainly being killed and/or maimed. He thought the cook hated him, but… he couldn’t if he saved him, right? “What you- what you did….” He looks up at Declan, giving him a small rare smile. “Thanks.”

Declan raises an eyebrow, studying Virgil’s expression. “…Didn’t your father ever teach you to pick your fights more carefully?” Virgil silently goes back to mopping, and Declan feels that strange feeling in his chest again. “Is he not the teaching sort?” Virgil turns his back, continuing to mop.

“Well, I had two fathers. My dad and my pa. My dad’s a total softy; it was supposed to be my pa’s job to “raise me like a real boy”, but… he was more of the… taking off and never coming back… sort.”

What was this feeling? Maybe Declan needed to have something else replaced, now. He walks over to Virgil, leaning his arms on the trim of the ship. “I’m… sorry.” Was he?

He was.

Virgil gives a humorless laugh and a shrug that does funny things to Declan’s heart. “Hey, well, no big deal.” He sets the mop aside, leaning over the trim to watch the distant stars pass. “I’m doing just fine without him.”

Declan didn’t like the heavy, tense atmosphere. He didn’t like the way it was making him feel. “Is that so…. Well. The captain  _did_ put you in my charge, so…” He straightens up. “Like it or not, I suppose I’ll have to pound some skills into that  _thick_ head of yours.” He pokes Virgil’s forehead with the pad of one of his metallic fingers, pulling the teen out of his thoughts. Virgil blinks, processing his words.

“Wait, what?”

Declan grins. “From here on I’m  _not_  letting you out of my sight-”

“You can’t do th-”

“You don’t so much as eat, sleep, or scratch your ass without  _my_  permission.”

Virgil crosses his arms petulantly. “Don’t do me any favors.”

Declan laughs and throws an arm around Virgil’s shoulder. “Oh,  _trust_ me, you can be sure of that.”

He could do this. He could be the tough caretaker forced into the position out of a sense of duty.

Maybe it would get rid of these moments that made his chest ache.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, Declan kept his promise. From dawn to dusk he had Virgil out of bed and working, whether it was in the kitchen or on deck. He rigged a makeshift sort of Bosun’s Chair for he and Virgil to sit and work at scraping the barnacles from the ship’s underbelly.

Well, he would egg Virgil on, goad him into actually “putting some effort into something useful for once”, and Virgil would scrape the barnacles from the ship’s underbelly. There were thousands. It took almost two weeks.

He tried to teach Virgil how to tie a proper noose knot, because as a cabin boy it would be his job to make sure ropes were secure in the event that all aboard required lifelines. Virgil hadn’t once looked at him, leaning back in his seat and looking bored. Declan had tried to smile and be charming, tell jokes just to get him to  _look at him_ , but when he went to finish off the knot and present it, Virgil was gone. Confused - because they were sitting in a small pod off to the side of the ship, attached by metal rods - he looked over the edge to see if Virgil had fallen only to see Virgil walking away along the trim of the ship, hands shoved in his pockets and gaze turned down as always. Declan looked away, not liking the way his heart pulled at him, and noticed Virgil’s rope. It was tied in a perfect noose knot, better than the cheap demo one Declan made, and had been used to help lower Virgil to the ship.

Well, at least he was learning.

When Virgil scrubbed the deck on hands and knees, Declan would walk up with a mischievous grin that set Virgil on edge. He would stand up, ready for a confrontation, only for Declan to dump more soapy water onto the deck. Every. Single. Time. And every single time, Virgil would huff and get back on his hands and knees, scrubbing at the wood planks until they glistened.

In the kitchen, he had Virgil peeling root vegetables by the hundreds; enough to last the entire trip. He kept a careful eye on the teen as the piles of peels grew into mountains and his posture slumped, exhausted from the constant work. He would look away before he lost his resolve, telling himself Virgil had to learn how to handle an honest day’s work. Virgil’s eyes would wander up to the squares of light cast by the wood hatched window on deck, and Declan would pretend not to notice so he wouldn’t have to scold him.

He made Virgil wash the dishes. Every last one. Being a large ship with a sizeable crew (and two passengers), the dishes would quickly stack up until the pile grew bigger than Declan himself. He would carry stacks of plates, silverware, and cookware, depositing them beside Virgil who sat on a stool with a pot of soapy water. It was enough work to keep him busy for a large portion of the day, and on a particularly busy day for him - Declan had made a rather large lunch for the crew and accrued more dishes than usual - Declan had come down to the galley to check in on Virgil. Virgil had been zoning out a lot lately, and they couldn’t afford to fall behind on dishes tonight with dinner fast approaching. The sight before him as he reached the bottom of the stairs made him pause.

Virgil was asleep, cheek resting on the lip of a pot in his arms, scrub brush in hand, and not a dirty dish in sight. Declan looked around. Virgil had cleaned every last dish absolutely spotless, and even put them back in their designated spot. Morph cooed at Virgil’s sleeping figure, and Declan couldn’t help the fond sigh that escaped him at the teen’s slightly smooshed sleeping face. Declan took off his coat, draping it over Virgil’s shoulders before he left. He told himself it was because it would be a pain if Virgil got too cold and got sick.

If Virgil knew where the coat had come from when he’d woken up, he didn’t mention it.

* * *

Virgil did his best to keep busy, to immerse himself in his work. Of course, he would always act like he hated it, groaning and complaining the entire time in typical teen fashion, but really he’d give anything to have a distraction from his own thoughts. So secretly, he was happy for the work.

It wasn’t enough though, not really.

Back home on Montressor, he had endless distractions. Working in the Mind Palace Inn provided a sort of numb monotony that allowed him to dissociate and amble through his days, the work completely mindless to the point he didn’t have to use any conscious thought. Riding his surfer was the opposite, a completely immersive effect that gave him so much to focus on that there wasn’t room for brooding thoughts.

Here, on a ship in the middle of dead space, with only a cranky cook and Morph for company, he was stuck doing mundane chores that required just enough brain power to think, but not enough to make overthinking impossible.

So that left him to his roaming thoughts.

He thought of the days when he was younger, back when he dreamed openly of exploring space just like his pa, going on adventures - or at the very least being a merchant so he could see the galaxy. He would spend his days exploring his home planet, more often than not getting in trouble for going where he wasn’t allowed. At night, if his pa was away, he would stay up late with his dad while he sat in his pajamas, worrying over his husband’s safe return. On the nights he was supposed to return but hadn’t yet, neither of them would sleep.

Virgil remembers one day when he was seven, he’d made a wooden boat. He was proud of it; it wasn’t very complicated or detailed, but  _he_ made it, by himself, and that was enough. He’d been so excited to show his pa that when the man walked through the front door he shot to his feet, holding it up like a prized trophy, grinning widely with one missing tooth. His pa just ruffled his hair and kept walking, heading upstairs. Virgil threw the wooden ship in the trash.

The morning Virgil’s pa had left for the last time, it wasn’t on a job. Virgil’s window had been slightly open to let in the warm summer breeze, the gentle light breaking through the clouds and slowly waking the ten-year-old. He didn’t know what woke him up, even to this day, but he chalked it up to a gut instinct. He’d woken up, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and felt a sinking feeling in his stomach that had him shooting out of bed and down the stairs.

He’d found his dad at the table by the window, crying into his hands, hair a mess and still in pajamas, his pa nowhere in sight. He’d raced out the front door and spotted his pa heading for the dock near the Inn, and somehow he knew this was different than all the other times. He knew he had to stop his pa or something bad would happen. He ran after him, calling out to him, but his pa never once looked back as he climbed on the ship. Virgil ran with all his might, his fingers brushing the fabric of his pa’s jacket as a breeze fluttered the fabric, but before he could grab on the ship’s thruster was ignited and his pa was being carted away. Virgil collapsed on the end of that dock and knew he’d never have to spend a late night with his dad again.

* * *

At night, if he couldn’t sleep, Virgil would often sneak on deck. If he felt brave enough, sure that no one would catch him, he’d maneuver his way onto the stem and sit on his heels, losing himself in the thousands of stars that dotted the night sky and feeling the cool breeze sift through his hair.

If he didn’t feel like sneaking on deck, he would sneak down to the galley. He’d sit on the staircase, just within the shadows with a mug of tea, and listen to Declan weaving extravagant tales of past adventures to his crew in the lamplight, drinking in their laughter. He always found he slept better on those nights, after rushing back to his hammock before anyone else to make sure he didn’t get caught, adrenaline thrumming under his skin as he closed his eyes and listened to the crew pass him by unwittingly.

* * *

Roman had asked Declan to test the sails and thruster on the I.M.G.Nation’s longboat. It was a small thing, really practically a dinghy, and only fit a few people. Declan brought Virgil down with him; the job would be easier with two hands to work the pulleys. He opened up the bottom of the ship and had Virgil jump to the other catwalk across the way, the two of them each grabbing one of the pulley’s ropes and slowly lowering the longboat until it was level enough for Declan to step into. He settled in as Virgil lowered it down through the opening in the bottom of the ship, grinning up at him smugly and giving a lazy wave as he pulled the lever that would ignite the thruster. The longboat dropped a couple feet before the sail opened and it shot off, leaving Virgil behind.

Virgil’s smile faded as he watched Declan leave without him. It was stupid, really, but it reminded him of his pa. Declan wasn’t him, though. He barely even  _liked_ the guy. So why did it matter if he just disappeared? It didn’t. Right.

So then why did he feel elation choking his lungs when Declan came back? Declan rose through the hole in the ship’s bottom and motioned for Virgil to get on with a smile and Virgil felt relief flood through his veins, jumping on board and laughing shakily as Declan steadied him with a hand to his arm. Declan motioned for Virgil to take the guide, giving him control of the longboat. He started to explain how the controls worked and Virgil shot him a mischievous smirk before turning it on to full throttle. Declan let out a startled laugh and held on to his tricorn, taking in the way Virgil’s face lit up as he flew the ship near a comet, then right into its tail, burning stardust dusting his hair and his face and making him laugh with joy. Virgil pulled the sail in and pulled the longboat into a spin, letting his senses become full with swirling light that almost made him nauseous. This was a hundred times better than flying his solar surfer in some canyon.

Declan was almost sure they were going to die until Virgil stabilized the longboat and brought it out of the comet’s tail, slowing their speed. Declan took a moment to catch his breath, letting his stomach settle and his heart slow. He shook stardust off his tricorn and looked over at Virgil, his breath catching at the sight.

Virgil had on the biggest smile Declan had ever seen, hair an absolute mess, clothes rumpled from the wind, and stardust accumulating in each. His eyes were alight with passion and true, unbridled joy. It was the first time Virgil had ever looked his age, instead of leagues older and heavier than most adults. Declan wanted to protect that smile.

Both men grabbed a rope, pulling the longboat back up into the ship. Declan’s side suddenly lurched up, making him stumble back with a startled chuckle.

“Having a little trouble?”

Declan looked over his shoulder at Virgil, who wore a smug grin, rope in one hand while the other lay as a fist against his hip. Declan rolled his eyes, pulling on his rope to even them out, but even he couldn’t lie about the grin on his face. “Pf, get away from me.” He nudged Virgil over with his boot to the teen’s thigh and Virgil laughed, taking a step back and helping Declan pull the longboat up the rest of the way.

Both men tie their respective ropes to the metal loops anchored into the longboat. Declan sighs softly as he tightens his knot, straightening up. “If I could maneuver a skiff like that at your age, they’d be bowing in the streets when I walked by today.” He sat down with a huff, taking off his tricorn. Morph flew out of the hat, turning into a mini Declan and bowing. “Bowing in the streets!”

Virgil sits down once his knot is tied. “I dunno, they aren’t exactly singin’ my praises at home. But… I’m gonna change that.”

Declan pets Morph, smiling. If anyone asked, he would say he’s riding the high of a good sail. “Are you? How so?”

Virgil leans back, crossing his arms behind his head. “I’ve got plans. Gonna make people see me a little different.” He closes his eyes with a smile.

Declan’s smile fades. If his plans were what he thought they were, then…. “Sometimes plans  _don’t_ work out.”

Virgil just gives a happy shrug. “Sometimes. Not this time.”

Declan’s leg starts to ache - well, it’d be more accurate to say the connected nerves ached - and he pulled his leg up to prop it on the skiff’s bench, rubbing at the accordion-like thigh. He grips the lugnut in his knee and tries to turn it with a grunt, and Morph mercifully comes to his aid, turning into a wrench. Declan smiles, gripping him. “Thank you, Morph.” He fits the wrench against the lugnut and twists it, tightening the nut before letting go of Morph so he can change back.

Virgil glances down at Declan’s leg, face pinched. “How’d that happen, anyway?”

Declan frowns, glancing down at his mechanized hand. “You  _give up_  a few things chasing a dream.”

Virgil sits up, frowning. “Was it worth it?”

Declan studies Virgil for a moment before moving to sit next to him, wrapping an arm around him. “I’m hoping it is, Virgil.” He puts his tricorn back on and closes his eyes, smiling as Virgil rests his head back against his arm and closes his eyes as well.


	9. Chapter 8

A shaking boom and a heavy jolt startles both men, making them sit up, their eyes flying open. A bright light flashes through the still-open bottom of the ship and Declan jumps out of the skiff, running as fast as he can up onto the deck. He expects pirates, or maybe a run-in with some distant planet’s armada, but when the sky remains devoid of enemy craft he falters. “What….”

Logan stands on deck, extending his collapsible telescope and looking through it.

“It’s the star Pelusa.” He calls in a grave voice. “It’s gone supernova.”

By this point, Virgil and most of the crew have joined the two on deck, Roman surfacing from his private quarters. “Evasive action Mr. Turnbuckle!” One of the crew takes his station at the wheel, directing the ship away from the star’s approaching blast. “Aye, captain!”

The ship speeds away, the bright fiery light of the approaching heatwave lighting everyone’s half asleep and terrified faces. Emile grips the base of the shrouds, calling out orders.

“All hands fasten your lifelines!”

Crew members scramble down from the shrouds and from all directions to reach the ropes, each person tying a rope around their waist and securing them to their assigned pegs. The fire of the star’s blast is fast-approaching, riding on the ship’s tail and quickly gaining. A few stray meteors fly past the ship, sailing through space with heated force. The pressure of the blast shatters the ship’s windows and more meteors pierce the solar sails, blowing holes in the fabric.

Roman swears under his breath. “Emile! Secure the sails!”

Emile nods, calling out. “Secure the sails!”

Crew take to the shrouds, racing up the ropes and up onto the masts, reeling the sails in as they try to avoid being hit by flying meteors. Virgil finds himself among them, darting across the support beam on shaking legs, barely maintaining his balance as he heads for the sail’s rope.   
Down below, one of the crew mounts a machine - some sort of manual light canon - and fires at the meteors flying at the ship, pulverizing them before they can do any further damage.

Virgil’s heart races and heat tingles his skin. His fingers fumble with the rope’s knot and then he’s pulling, pulling, pulling, harsh hot winds pulling at his hair and clothes and threatening to send him flying. His breath comes in aggressive pants, the sweat on his brow quickly heating in the inferno’s wake. His muscles strain and ache and his hands burn against the rope but he can’t stop to breathe. He pulls harder, stronger, gritting his teeth and groaning with the effort.

Nearby, Declan crouches at another rope, struggling to untie it. He slips from the mast and falls towards the deck. Virgil catches the motion and the cyborg’s shocked cry and runs for his lifeline.

“Declan!”

He grabs the lifeline as it whizzes past him, hissing and gritting his teeth when it burns him before he’s got a decent grip, then he’s pulling pulling pulling again until Declan can grip the mast and haul himself onto it. Virgil lets out a shaky gust of air and collapses next to Declan and Declan claps him on the shoulder, giving him a grateful - if slightly shaken - smile. “Thanks, Virgil.” Virgil’s eyes widen. Has Declan ever thanked him for anything? He liked it. He liked feeling like he’s finally done something right for once. He smiles and helps Declan to his feet.

An enormous smoldering boulder, three times the size of the ship, looms over them. It’s slow-moving, but it would still do incredible damage if it hit. The crewman with the light canon fires at it but the blasts have little to no effect, and just as everyone is bracing for impact, the polarity of its movement seems to shift. It begins sailing away from them, as do other surrounding meteors, and everyone feels the shift as the ship begins to move too. Virgil’s eyes widen as he takes in the sight of fire swirling, being sucked into a single spot. It would almost be beautiful if he didn’t know what it meant.

“Captain, the star!”

Roman’s jaw sets as he watches meteor and flame alike be sucked into seeming nothingness. Logan stands at his side, eyes wide and mouth set into a grim frown. “It’s turned into a… black hole.”

Turnbuckle is thrown off by the sudden shift of the ship and stumbles, falling away from the wheel. Roman rushes over and grips it. “Oh no you don’t,” he grits out, arms straining to keep the wheel in place, let alone turn it to steer the ship away. He couldn’t let the ship be sucked in. He couldn’t let any innocent lives end on a miscalculation.

An energy blast followed by a cloud of fire hits the ship, flooring half the crew. Declan and Virgil, who are both on deck by now, fall to the ground and tumble end over end a couple of times before the ship settles. Virgil sits up, gripping his head. Roman swears. “These damn waves are too erratic!” Logan stands nearby at the radar, studying the images and data.

“Actually, they aren’t erratic at all. In fact, there will be another blast in precisely 47.2 seconds,” the normally placid man has to shout to be heard over the roar of the aggressive winds, “followed by the biggest magilla of them all!”

Roman brightens.

Ooh, idea.

“Fantastic! Thank you, Logan. We’ll ride that last magilla out of here!”

“All sails secured, captain!” Emile calls from the main deck.

“Good man!” Roman grins; this is gonna piss them all off so much. “Now, release them immediately!”

Emile’s eyes widen, but he only hesitates for a moment. Trust Emile to never question his judgement. “Aye, captain.” He turns to the crew. “You heard him, men! Unfurl the sails!”

“What?!”

“But we just finished-”

“-tyin’ em down!”

“Make up your fucking minds!”

The crew scrambles back up the shrouds, rushing to unfurl the sails. Emile follows them, and Virgil rushes to follow.

“Mr. Shae!” Roman calls. Virgil pauses and looks up. “Make sure all lifelines are secured good and tight!” Virgil nods, hopping down from the shrouds and running over to the lifelines. He braces his boot next to each one as he pulls on the ropes, adjusting them and tightening each knot before calling out, “Lifelines secured!” Roman nods, grinning. “Good man!”

The ship starts to dip into the black hole, and Virgil feels his stomach hit his feet. If this doesn’t work out and he dies, who would tell his dad? He’d have no one left…

A wave of pressure hits the ship, knocking Roman to the ground. He lets go of the wheel with a grunt and the ship shifts, sending everyone stumbling.

“Captain! The last wave is coming!” Logan calls, eye trained on the radars.

“Hold onto your lifelines, men! It’s gonna be a bumpy ride!”

Virgil clings to the metal facets of the mast for dear life, Declan wrapped around him gripping the mast with both hands, tucked protectively over him. Both of them shut their eyes tightly, every muscle tense, their nerves singing. This is a last-ditch effort at survival. If this doesn’t work, they’re dead.

Just when Virgil was starting to think that Logan was wrong, that there was no last blast coming, a shaking boom rumbles from below and a scorching fireball approaches the ship at incredible speed. The energy from the blast is soaked up by the sails, which are taking in so much energy they’re white-hot with light, pulled taught, caught in the strong winds of the blast. The thrusters practically explode with power, propelling the ship out of the black hole with incredible force. Everyone is sent tumbling across the deck, smacking into the nearest hard surface. Virgil lets out a terrified cry as he goes flying, only to be grabbed by the arm by Declan. Declan pulls him close and holds Virgil to his chest as the ship sails further from the black hole.

The heat rapidly dissipates as they gain distance between themselves and the imploded star, and soon enough the ship has slowed down to its normal pace. Once everyone is sure the danger has passed, a collective sigh of relief washes over the crew and they cheer, hearts pounding and blood humming with adrenaline. There was definitely going to be some drinking tonight.

Declan lets go of Virgil and Virgil gives the cook a grateful smile.

Logan stands and adjusts his glasses, eyes shining with a kind of excitement he’d never experienced before as he approached Roman. “Captain, I must say, that was rather remarkable.”

Roman laughs and waves him off. “That was nothing. Actually, your astronomical advice was very useful. I suppose I should thank you.”

Logan blinks. “Ah, uhm, you’re welcome. Of course.”

Roman rolls his eyes in amusement and descends the stairs to the main deck. “Mr. Moran, I have to congratulate you. Your cabin boy did well with the lifelines.” Declan grins and nudges Virgil, who smirks and nudges him back. “All hands accounted for, Mr. Picani?” Roman looks around. When he’s met with silence, others look around too. “Mr. Picani?”

Remy walks up to the captain, handing him a tricorn.

 _Emile’s_ tricorn.

“I’m afraid we’ve lost Mr. Picani, captain.” He says, voice and face uncharacteristically remorseful. Roman takes the tricorn with hesitant hands, face pinched in pain. The thought of his old friend, lost in a black hole, most certainly dead… “His lifeline was not secured.”

All eyes are drawn to Virgil, who looks panicked. Roman looks at him questioningly.

“No, I- I checked all of them!” He pushes through the crew to get to the lifelines. He  _knows_ they were all secure. He  _knows_ he checked them all.

There’s one missing.

“But I- I don’t- I checked them all. I did. They were secure.” He turns to look up at Roman, gaze pleading. “I  _swear_ , I did.” Roman’s gaze turns accusing.

Declan looks away, face pinched. Remy meets his eye and smirks.

That doesn’t sit right with him, but… not now. Later.

“Mr. Picani was a…” Roman clears his throat. “Fine spacer. Finer than most of us could ever hope to be.” Heads bow as everyone takes in the grief of the situation, even Logan humbled by the sorrow in the captain’s voice. “But he knew the risks. As do we all… Resume your posts.” He sounds almost breathless as he turns away. “At once.” He disappears into his stateroom, and everyone resumes their posts.

Virgil’s eyes burn.

He  _failed_.

Again.

He runs.


	10. Chapter 9

After everything has settled and dinner is over, Declan decides to go look for Virgil. He hasn’t seen the boy since he ran off, not even at dinner, and at this point even he can’t deny that he’s feeling a little worried right now. He searches below deck first, even going so far as to check any spaces big enough to hide a scrawny teen (not an easy feat when you’re twice his size). Hoping he hasn’t just missed the boy, he heads to the last place he hasn’t checked; the deck.

Virgil sits up in the shrouds, just above head level, staring out at the calm night sky. His hands tie and untie a small length of rope again and again, and Declan just knows somehow that he’s trying to make the action unconscious so that maybe he won’t screw up next time.

His chest aches at the thought.

He walks over to the shroud, leaning against the trim and casually joining Virgil in looking out at the stars. He sighs softly, his eyes glancing up at the teen who refuses to acknowledge his presence. Alright then, he’ll start…

“It wasn’t _your_  fault, you know.”

Virgil sighs. Declan forces a grin. “Half the crew would be spinning in that… black abyss if it weren’t for-”

Virgil tosses the rope and it floats off into space as he jumps down onto the trim, glaring at Declan as he finds his footing on the deck. “Don’t you get it? I screwed up!” He marches up to the cook, his eyes never leaving the cyborg’s. “I thought that, for two seconds,  _maybe_ I could do something  _right_! But- Augh!” He grips at his hair, mussing it as he pulls at the strands. He turns away from Declan, walking over to the mast and slumping against it defeatedly. “I just-” He sighs, “just- forget it…”

Declan frowns, then sets his face and walks up to the teen, grabbing his shoulder and turning Virgil to face him. “Now, you listen to me,  _Virgil Shae_.” Virgil looks up at him, a spark of curiosity in his otherwise defeated gaze. The tears making his eyes shine pull at Declan’s heartstrings, so he forces a grin to mask it. “You’ve got a gift. A spark that no one else has, and you can really be something great if you just… take the helm and chart your own course!” He implores. Virgil tilts his head up to look at Declan more fully. From the wide-eyed look he’s giving him, Declan has to wonder if anyone’s ever told Virgil he was  _worth_ something.

He doesn’t like the answer he can easily assume.

“You have to stick to it, no matter the obstacles. And when the time comes to show what you’re made of….” He allows a fond smile to creep onto his face, looking up at the stars. “I hope I’m there, to catch some of the light coming off of you.” When his gaze meets Virgil’s again, Virgil looks on the verge of tears. He takes a step closer to Declan, looking up at him silently, then suddenly his face is pressed gently to Declan’s chest.

Declan had never put much thought - or any thought, really - into what kind of crier Virgil was, but as the teen stands there, slumped against the larger cyborg and wetting the man’s shirt, Declan can’t find it in himself to care. In fact, he feels like he shouldn’t be seeing this. Like he’s intruding on something private. He looks around, heat crawling up his neck and along his cheeks, before hesitantly wrapping his arms around Virgil.

“It’s… it’s  _alright_ , Virge. It’s alright.” He awkwardly pats his back.

After a moment of the two standing there, Declan clears his throat, taking Virgil by the shoulders and holding him at arm’s length with a reassuring smile. “Now… I need to get back to watch. You need to get some sleep.” He gently nudges Virgil towards the stairs and Virgil goes wordlessly. At the last moment Virgil turns to smile at Declan, and Declan shoots him a lazy wave. Virgil waves back before shuffling down the stairs.

Declan’s smile melts off his face as he watches the boy go, sighing. Morph flits over to Declan, resting on his shoulder with a happy little grin. “I’m getting in too deep, Morph… Next thing you know, they’ll be saying I’ve gone  _soft…_ ”

* * *

Virgil hated his bunk. Not the hammock itself, no, that was just fine. He hated who slept above him, though.

As a series of farts - his version of sleep talking? - left the snout… things of the crewman above him, Virgil wondered in his sleep-addled brain if they were all linked to his butt or something. One of them farted right in his face, ruffling his hair, and he nearly gagged on the smell, falling out of his hammock.

No question about it, this dude was basically a bunch of buttholes.

He carded a hand through his messy hair and rubbed his tired eyes, reaching for his boots. He pulled the left one on as he let out a loud yawn, tying the laces with clumsy fingers. He reached for the right, but just as leather brushed his fingertips, it jumped away.

Wait, what?

He had to be seeing things.

The shoe continued to hop over to the corner of the room where the crew’s various belongings were all haphazardly stuffed together. It hopped onto a chest and then ducked behind it, disappearing.

Virgil rubbed his face tiredly. “Morph…?”

He stood up, stumbling over to the mess in the corner on uneven feet, and hauled himself over the chest, looking around. There wasn’t much light getting into the barracks since it was early morning, couple that with the fact that he was still waking up and Virgil couldn’t make much out from the mess of belongings. He moved things around, standing on his tiptoes and the chest pressing uncomfortably against his stomach.

“Morph, come on man, it’s too early for this.”

A swift kick to his butt had him straightening up, startled. “Ow, hey! Morph!”

Boot-Morph floated just above his head, just out of his reach, and blew a raspberry at him. It looked weird, the tongue poking out between the sole of the shoe and its rubber bottom. Then he turns back into his pink self and grabs Virgil’s boot from where he’d hidden it, flitting away.

“Hey, come back here!”

“Come back here!”

Virgil smiled as he chased Morph through the barracks, trying not to bump or wake anybody. Morph disappeared up the stairs and Virgil raced to follow.

Morph shot through the air towards the main deck and Virgil jumped in leu of taking the stairs down, snatching the boot as he came crashing down onto the deck right beside one of the hatched openings that served as the undercarry’s window. Morph stops just in front of him and turns into a blowfish, deflating as he spits water into Virgil’s face.

Well, if he wasn’t awake before, he certainly was now.

“That’s it, you little squid!” Virgil calls through his laughter, grabbing for Morph. Morph squeezed through his fingers and disappears through one of the hatched openings. “You little squid!” He appears as Virgil’s head to Virgil’s left and Virgil reaches to smack him, just missing him as he ducks back down.

“You little squid!” To Virgil’s right. Virgil is just barely too slow.

“You little squid!” His left again.

“You little squid!” In front of him.

“You little squid! You little squid! You little squid!” He turns into more heads, all of them even smaller, appearing in multiple gaps at once. Virgil somehow manages to miss every single one, laughing breathlessly in a mix of amusement and frustration. Suddenly, they stop. Virgil pauses to wait, but they don’t come back. He hums to himself and puts his boot on, heading down to the galley where the hatched window peers into.

Virgil looks under all the tables and benches, looking for any place Morph might hide. It doesn’t help that he can change into completely mundane objects, though. He spots the barrel of purps in the corner and walks over to it. Maybe…

He pears inside, looking at the pile of inconspicuous purps. One of them suddenly opens its eyes - which it definitely should  _not_ have - before gasping and shutting them again. “Ha!  _Busted_!” Virgil jumped into the barrel, thankful it was nearly empty so instead of squishing the purps, they merely moved around him. He grabbed at Morph and the blob escaped his grasp. He laughed as he finally managed to snag him, scritching his head with a finger. Morph purred contently, sagging.

“Look, all we’re saying is we’re sick of waiting around!”

Virgil stilled at the sound of hushed voices drawing closer, coming down the stairs.

“There’s only three of them left.”

“We want to move!”

Virgil peeks out of a hole in the barrel, his eyes widening as he takes in the sight of the crew. The big four-armed guy that bumped into him on the first day, the head-and-arms lady, the heavyset guy that had glared at him, those two aliens that acted like one guy. A robotic arm comes into view, the fist clenched. “We’re not moving until we’ve got the treasure in hand!”

Virgil’s eyes widened. Wait, Declan was…

“I say we kill them all now.” Remy’s voice muttered. Virgil shifted to get a better look. Declan scowled and grabbed Remy by his jaw, yanking him down to glare down at him.

“I give the orders here! Disobey me again like that stunt with Picani, and you’ll be  _joining_ him!” Declan threw Remy into the barrel, making it shake with the impact. Virgil fell back and Morph let out a worried sound. Virgil put a finger to his lips, eyes wide and heart pounding.

Emile’s death wasn’t his fault after all? But then… what happened? Had Remy…  _killed_ him?

Was Declan going to let him kill Virgil, too?

“Strong words, but I know the truth.” Remy reached a claw into the barrel, narrowly missing Virgil’s head. Virgil pushed himself back against the wood, watching the claw grasp fruitlessly (pun  _so_ intended) with wide eyes, gripping Morph to his chest.

“You got something to say, Remy?”

Virgil grabbed a purp and held it up for Remy to grasp. His claw squeezed the purp and left the barrel, lifting the fruit to take a bite. “You’ve gone soft, fawning over that nosy cabin boy.”

The other crewmen murmur agreements and curiosities, and Declan narrows his eyes, straightening up. “Now you listen here. All of you. I only care about  _one_ thing; Flint’s trove. You think I’d risk that all for some…  _brat_?”

Virgil feels his heart shatter. His chest heaves as he tries to breathe past the sudden hole in his lungs. He should have known; no one cares about him. Nobody. He’s useless, a waste of space, he’ll never amount to anything. Declan just said all that stuff to get Virgil off their backs.

“You’ve got a gift~. A spark that no one else has~.” Remy mocks. Declan’s robotic eye turns red and he snarls. “Shut your mouth! I cozied up to him to keep him off our scent,  _nothing_ else!” Virgil feels tears burning in his eyes. He knew it. He  _knew_ it, and he let himself believe otherwise.

God, he was so  _stupid_.

“I  _haven’t_ gone soft.”

“Land ho!”

All conversation stops and the men cheer, rushing up the steps. Virgil holds Morph to his chest, trying to catch his breath and struggling to keep his tears in his eyes.

He should have never left Montressor.


	11. Chapter 10

“There it is!”

“Oh my god….”

“ _Look_  at it…”

Just past a group of dark clouds, Treasure Planet looms in the green light of one of its rings. Asteroids float idly by, the ship effortlessly maneuvering past them closer to the planet. The crew rush to the trim, gripping it with excited hands as they take in the sight of the fabled planet. Declan reaches into his coat pocket for his telescope, but it’s not there. Strange… He checks his other pocket. Not there either. He must have left it in the galley.

* * *

Virgil climbs out of the barrel on shaky legs, steadying himself with a hand on one of the tables. His fingers brush a golden telescope, sending it rolling a few inches. Declan’s telescope. Virgil’s heart squeezes painfully at the sight.

He turns away from it and runs across the galley, making it halfway up the stairs before someone blocks his path. He freezes and looks up, coming face-to-face with Declan on his way down.

“Virge….” Declan looks back to the deck to make sure the crew are preoccupied before making his way down the stairs, effectively forcing Virgil to walk backwards back into the galley. He smiles. “Playing games with Morph again?” He keeps walking, Virgil never taking his eyes off him and backing himself into a table.

“Yeah, playing games.”

His tone is scathing, his glare piercing, and Declan understands. He must have heard the conversation. A part of him wants to reassure Virgil that it was all lies, that he hadn’t meant any of it, but a larger part of him is screaming at him that he has to take care of this, get Virgil out of the way before he blows Declan’s cover. “Oh. I see… I always  _hated_ games. Not a very good loser…” Behind him, his hand retreats into his arm to be replaced with a gun. He cocks it.

Virgil reaches behind himself blindly, fingers curling around a leftover knife from breakfast. “Yeah… me too!” He lunges forward, driving the knife into the accordion part of Declan’s leg and shooting past him up the stairs. Declan cries out in pain and grabs his leg, air hissing out around the blade. He stumbles up the stairs, his robotic eye searching manically for the teen.

It skirts over the crewmen, zooming in and out, switching between looking for heat signatures and focusing in on normal vision. He looks clear across the deck to the other end of the ship, his eye homing in on movement and zooming in just in time to see a frantic, scared Virgil shutting and locking the door to the captain’s stateroom.

“Dammit…” Declan scrambles to his feet, gripping his leg before forcing himself to stand erect and letting out a loud whistle. “Change of plans, men! We move. Now!”

The crew let out excited whoops and hollers, set into motion. Crewmen rush down the shrouds, slide down ropes, and race across the deck to reach their weapons. “Raise our flag, Mr. Onus!” The lookout solutes Declan, grinning.

“Aye, captain!”

He brings Roman’s flag down, replacing it with their own; a black flag with a fanged skull, bordered by two planetary belts in an X. A pirate flag.

The crewmen race up the steps to the stateroom, where Virgil, Logan, and Roman are locked inside. Roman opens his armoire, expression grave as he grabs a solar gun. “Pirates,” he snarls, “I’ll see them all  _hang_.” He turns the safety off the gun and tosses it to Logan. “Familiar with these?” Logan fumbles to catch it and holds it like he’s scared it’ll explode. “Ah, I’ve seen… I’ve read…” His finger slips over the trigger and it fires, shattering Roman’s globe-shaped map. “Ah, no. No I’m not.” Roman sighs, bringing out the orb. “Mr. Shae, defend this with your life.” He tosses it to Virgil, but Morph catches it in midair and flits away with it.

“Morph! Gimme that!” He grabs for it, fighting with Morph for a moment before Morph lets it go. Virgil stuffs it in his pocket.

The lock on the door starts glowing red. The pirates on the other side must be melting it with solar guns.

Declan shoves the men aside, scowling. “You’re taking too long.  _Idiots_.” He hooks up his arm to a solar canon attached to his thigh and only takes a brief moment to charge before he’s firing it at the door, the wood splintering deafeningly and the metal lock and handle mangling, red-hot. Declan and his men storm into the room through the smoke, pausing just inside the doorway to wait for it to clear.

The room is empty, a hole blasted in the floor, and Declan swears. He grabs the nearest crewman and shoves him towards the hole, snarling, “After them!”

Deep in the ship’s interior, far past the barracks and stateroom, Virgil, Roman, and Logan race through the innards of the ship. The inner mechanisms of the ship don’t look too different from that of a normal ship’s, with large pipes twisting and turning in all directions along the walls, boilers and other machines necessary for the ship’s function, and a thin catwalk in the middle to guide them through. The three men pass the entryway into another section of the ship and look back to see several crewmen racing after them. Roman’s heart leaps into his throat and he grips the switch to the door, flipping it to shut just in time before the crewman can cross the threshold and using his solar gun to melt the lock. It won’t be permanent, but it will buy them a little time.

“We need to get to the skiffs!”

The three men race the remaining way to the skiffs, Virgil knowing the route from the time he came down here with Declan, and Logan following close behind. Virgil stumbles to a stop next to one of the skiffs and climbs in, grabbing the rope and already starting to untie it and lower the skiff. Roman pulls the lever to open up the underbelly of the ship and runs for the skiff, jumping in. A thundering boom echoes down the hall; the pirates must have gotten past the door.

Morph glances at the orb poking out of Virgil’s pocket and grins, snatching it in his mouth and flitting away. Virgil startles and tries to grab for him. “Morph, no!”

Morph flits back over to the catwalk and Virgil leaps out of the skiff to follow, scrambling to his hands and knees. The crewmen make it to the skiff room and Roman opens fire to buy themselves more time. Being five against one, he’s quickly becoming outnumbered by heavy fire. Logan swallows his heart back into his chest and stands, aiming his own gun at some giant metal structure in the ceiling. He fires, by some miracle hitting it, and the structure falls to the catwalk, shattering the wood under the crewmen’s feet and sending them plummeting through the ship’s open underbelly. Roman blinks in surprise.

“Did you  _actually_ aim for that?”

Logan scoffs. “Of course I did.”

A solar shot is fired in their direction and Roman tackles Logan down. Declan reaches the controls and flips the switch; the underbelly begins to close. Roman swears and turns to Logan. “Doctor, when I give the word, shoot out the forward cable. I’ll take the other.” Logan nods, adjusting the grip on his gun.

Virgil chases Morph around the remaining catwalks, jumping desperately to grab him where he flits around just out of Virgil’s reach. “Morph, come on, give it back! Please!” His desperate tone draws Declan’s attention, and he sees the orb Morph is holding in his mouth. He grins.

“Morph!” Morph turns to look at him, his little butt wagging. “Morph, come here.”

Virgil’s heart skips a beat and he forces a fun smile on his face, waving Morph closer. “Morph, come on, bring it here.”

“Come on Morph, come to dad!”

“Come here, Morph!” Virgil whistles like he’s calling to a dog.

“Come on Morphy! Come here!”

Morph whips back and forth, looking between both men, conflicted. He dives into a pile of rope with the orb.

Declan goes to make a run for it, but his leg gives out on him and he groans, falling to his knees. He grips his robotic thigh as he scoots himself closer desperately.

Virgil scrambles to his feet and races across the catwalk, managing to grab the orb just before Declan can reach in and take it, pausing to stare at him wide-eyed for only a moment before running for the skiff. Declan lets out an enraged cry, raising his gun and aiming, sights locked on Virgil.

He lowers the gun, gritting his teeth.

“Now!”

Virgil jumps for the skiff. Roman and Logan each shoot at one of the pulley’s cables, snapping the rope and breaking the metal wheels. The skiff falls, smacking into the still-closing underbelly and sliding out through the remaining gap before continuing to fall.

The jolt in the skiff’s movement offsets Virgil’s projection and he scrambles to grab onto the trim, legs kicking. “Virgil!” Logan lunges forward and grabs Virgil by his shirt, hauling him into the skiff as Roman pulls the lever to release the solar sail.

The sail unfurls and immediately starts to take in light energy. Roman sits and grabs the controls, directing them towards Treasure Planet.

On the ship, the crewman in charge of the light canon gets ready to aim, locking onto the skiff. Declan rushes to stop him, gripping at the machine. “Hold your fire! We’ll lose the  _map_!” It’s too late, though; the blast is released and it hits the back of the skiff, offset by Declan’s pulling. Roman cries out as the back of the skiff splinters, the thruster taking damage and the wood of the craft flying in every direction. The back of the skiff and the sail catch fire and the skiff’s trajectory stutters, dropping them a few feet before continuing forward. The sail burns up, leaving nothing powering the skiff.

Roman grits his teeth against the pain in his side and grabs the controls, fighting with the damaged machinery to guide the skiff into anything but a nosedive. The craft rapidly descends towards the planet, crashing through the indigenous foliage - large puke-green mushrooms with incredibly long stalks. Virgil and Logan are sent toppling over onto their sides, letting out twin cries of shock. The craft’s stem hits the ground and they flip, skidding for several yards before finally coming to a stop, then all is still.


	12. Chapter 11

The mushroom trees provide a dense cover from the light, bathing the atmosphere in shadow. The ground is covered in a soft moss, with the occasional rock, though a metal surface peeks out where the moss has been removed in some patches. The metal of the planet’s surface has grooves in it; lines and circles that seem to follow a nonsense pattern. Particles can be seen floating in the scarce streams of light that break through the mushroom trees’ canopy, the entire scene calm and still, the only thing offsetting the undisturbed natural scenery being the smoking, overturned skiff.

Virgil is the first to regain consciousness, looking around in the dim lighting to see Logan and Roman still disoriented. He grips the lip of the skiff, grunting as he lifts it just enough to slip out, then he positions himself so he’s standing with his back to it, feet braced on the metal surface of the planet, and grips the lip of the skiff again, pushing. He manages to lift it more, turning around to fully push it over and free the two older adults, then sits back down heavily on a moss patch and lets out a tired puff of air.

Logan is the next to fully wake, groaning softly and rubbing the back of his head. He sits up, looking around, his eyes widening as he becomes more aware of his surroundings. He shifts, his hand brushing along the grooves of the exposed metal, and glances down. “Curious….”

Roman wakes up next, shifting to sit up and then standing, looking around. “Well… That wasn’t one of my finer landings.” His face pinches with pain and he clutches his side, gasping softly and dropping into a kneel. Logan rushes to his side. “Captain!” Logan starts to help him up and Roman brushes him off. “It’s nothing, just bruising. I’ll be fine.” He turns to Virgil. “Mr. Shae, the map?”

Virgil reaches into his pocket, pulling out the gold orb and sighing with relief, a smile curling his lips. “Ah, good.” He starts to hand it over and it levitates out of his hand, making a few whirring and clicking sounds, the bits and pieces coming apart-

Only to turn into Morph.

Morph laughs and sticks his tongue out, and Virgil groans. “Morph!” Morph flies around his head, still laughing. “Morph, where’s the map?!” Morph stops in front of Virgil, then turns into a much smaller version of the map and the coil of rope from earlier, then the map tucks itself into the coil of rope.

“Are you serious?! It’s back on the  _ship_?” If Morph had shoulders to shrug apologetically, he no doubt would be doing so. As it is, he looks regretful enough. Virgil grabs at Morph in frustration, the blob slipping between his fingers again and again.

Roman looks up when sounds of an engine catch his ears, muttering to Virgil. “Silence the blob and get low. We have company.”

Virgil looks up in time to see the second skiff sailing slowly overhead; no doubt Declan and his men trying to find them. The three of them duck behind the overturned skiff and watch Declan’s skiff sail by. Roman turns to Virgil. “We need a more defensible position. Scout ahead.” He hands Virgil a solar gun, which the teen hesitantly takes, his expression turning serious. “Right.” Virgil stands, looking around and heading off in a random direction. As he’s leaving, he hears Roman gasp in pain again and what’s most likely Logan helping him to the ground.

“Steady, now. Let’s have a look at that, shall we?”

As Virgil wanders farther into the forest, it grows darker. The cover becomes thicker, the light more scarce, and the ground slopes downward. He walks hesitantly down a rather large root before just sitting on it and sliding the rest of the way down, finding his feet at the bottom and looking around as he walks. In this part of the forest, it seems like there are more ground-level organisms. They look almost like very large brussels sprouts, though it’s hard to tell if they’re some sort of shrubbery or just infantile trees. The canopy here is much denser; that, coupled with the lower ground, provides a much darker environment, and Virgil finds himself looking around a lot more, wary of any possible threats.

Just because they haven’t come across any native animals, doesn’t mean there aren’t any.

The large stalks of the mushroom trees loom ominously from all directions, stretching into the sky. With as little light as there is, the shadows make the stalks look almost like decaying wood, covered in some sort of slime. Virgil casts his eyes to the ground, his imagination getting the best of him; at least the moss looks the same.

A large root stretches out in front of him, blocking his path, and he has to hop up to sit on it, then pivot himself to get to the other side before hopping down. Unbeknownst to him, someone watches from the shadows, carefully monitoring his every movement.

A rustling comes from a patch of foliage behind Virgil and to his right. He spins around, but there’s nothing there except for the swaying stalks of some strange, tube-shaped plants. Morph titters anxiously and Virgil quietly shushes him, reaching for his solar gun. He turns it on, creeping closer to the stalks as the gun warms up, and peeks into the opening of the biggest one, his heart hammering in his chest. What kind of animal is it? Is it harmless? Does it have fangs? Claws? Does it eat meat?

Something jumps out of the stalk and screams, moving too fast for his brain to process. Virgil lets out a startled cry and falls on his back, the thing jumping on top of him, still screaming. Thin, hard, metal hands clamp down on his shoulders. Thick metallic joints press into his sides and shins. Large, glowing green eyes stare down at him and his first thought is  _I’m going to die and my dad will never know what happened_.

“Oh, this is fantastic!”

_What?_

The thing sits up, and now Virgil can tell that it’s a very thin, worn-down robot. Its body looked like it’s made of copper, the minimal build of gears and thin limbs covered in dark patches where the shine was worn down with age, or dirt, or rust. Wires stuck out from the back of his head, wiggling around with his movements. His eyes were in a sort of binocular-like setting, the “eyes” themselves screens that lit up bright green, narrowing and widening like actual eyes and with small black pupils that moved around to indicate what the robot was looking at, along with small metal eyebrows that moved just like real ones.

“A carbon-based lifeform has come to rescue me at last! Oh, I just wanna hug you, and squeeze you, and never let you go!” The robot scoops Virgil up mid-crawl in his attempt to get away, hugging him tightly from behind. Virgil lets out a quiet “oof” as the breath is squeezed out of him, extremely confused. He glances at Morph.

_Are you seeing what I’m seeing?_

Morph looks just as confused, if not a little excited at the new possible friend.

Virgil pries the robot off him, taking a step back. “Alright, wh-” The robot hugs him again, and Virgil once again pries him off. “Jus-” The robot clings to him with his arms and legs like a koala, smiling happily. Virgil pries him off again. “Would you just-  _stop_ it.”

The robot takes a step back. “Ah, sorry. Sorry sorry sorry. It’s just,” he puts an arm around Virgil’s shoulders. Virgil leans away, grimacing. “I’ve been marooned for… so long. I mean, don’t get me wrong, solitude is fine! It’s just that, after 100 years, you go a little nuts!” His voice picks up on the last part, practically screaming. Virgil winces at the volume as the robot chuckles nervously. “I-I’m sorry, eh,” He removes his arm from around Virgil, dusting him off and taking a step back. “I’m, uh… My name, is….” He scratches at his head, groaning a little in exasperation.

Morph pops up at Virgil’s shoulder and turns into a miniature of the robot, a cuckoo bird popping out of his head and making the “cuckoo, cuckoo” sound the clock makes. Virgil rolls his eyes and pushes him down, Morph turning back into his pink self with a giggle.

“BEN!” The robot suddenly shouts, grinning. “Of course, I’m B.E.N.! Bio-electronic navigator. But uhm….” He scratches his chin. “I don’t think I like that very much. Oh! Call me Patton!” He slaps his chest proudly, the compass attached to it popping off, only attached by a spring. “Oops.” He pushes it back into place. “And you are?”

“Virgil.”

Patton takes his hand, shaking it excitedly. “Nice to meet you, Virge!”

“It’s  _Virgil_.” Virgil pries his hand off, hunching down to slip past Patton.

“Anyway!” Patton giggles, resting his elbow on Virgil’s head. Virgil huffs and pushes him off, standing straight.

“Look, I’m kind of in the middle of something, okay?” He maneuvers around the robot, walking backwards as he continues talking. “I gotta find a place to hide, and there’s pirates cha-”

“Oh, pirates!” Patton laments, stepping in front of Virgil as he turns to face forwards. He puts a hand on Virgil’s shoulder, the other to his forehead. “Don’t get me started on pirates! I don’t like them.” Virgil shrugs his hand off and keeps walking, and Patton sits on a nearby rock. “I remember Captain Flint- this guy had such a temper!”

Virgil whips around at the name, walking back over to Patton. “Wait, wait. You knew  _Captain Flint_?”

“I think he suffered from mood swings, personally - I’m not a therapist - anyways.” Virgil groans, raking a hand down his face. “Oh, but you let me know when I’m rambling!” Virgil’s eyes widen. Wait, this robot knew Flint. That was good, right? That means…

“That means… you gotta know about the treasure, right?”

Patton grimaces. “Treasure?” He asks hesitantly.

“Yeah, Flint’s Trove? You know… Loot of a Thousand Worlds?” Virgil smiles, gesturing as if the treasure was around them. Morph turns into a treasure chest, opening to show a chest of gold coins.

“I-it-it’s-it’s all a l-li-little-” Patton stutters as he stands, his movements jerky. Virgil frowns, almost concerned. Was there something wrong with him? “Little fuzzy. Wait. I re-re-remember.” His eyes glitch, the green fuzzing out before returning to normal. “I do! Uh… Treasure!” His pupils are replaced by treasure chests. “Lots of treasure!” His eyes turn red. “Buried in the centroid centroid  **centroid**  of the mechanism!”

Virgil bites his lip, eyes wide and heart fluttering anxiously. Should he like… stop this? It was freaking him out…

“And there was this… big door.” Patton mimes a doorway, reaching as high as he can. “Opening and closing and opening and closing!” The green of his eyes changes into a triangle, turning green, then black, then back to green, the color shifting like curtains being pulled back. The compass on his chest springs forward, then goes back, repeating the action with Patton’s words.

“And Captain Flint wanted to make sure nobody could ever get to his treasure, so I helped him-“ Patton glitches, the graphics on his eyes going haywire and his body jerking, sparks flying from the gap in the back of his head where the wires stick out. “Ng-aAH! Data inaccessible! And- reboot!Reboot! Reboot!” Where the green would be if he was squinting had turned into a black screen with green text, his whole upper body jerking back and forth like he was the bird in a cuckoo clock. Virgil flinches back, his hands instinctively flying up. More sparks fly from Patton’s head, and Virgil panics and slaps him.

Patton settles, blinks, then squints at Virgil. “…And, you are?”


	13. Chapter 12

Virgil scoffs lightly, waiving his hands around. “Wait wait wait, what about the treasure!”

Patton looks regretful. “I wanna say… Larry.”

“The- the centroid of the mechanism, or…”

Patton smiles hesitantly. “I’m sorry, my memory isn’t what it used to be; I lost my mind!” Virgil slumps, defeated. And he was so close… “Literally!” Patton’s head spins around and he points to the gaping spot in the back of his head where the wires stick out. “You haven’t found it, have you? My memory circuit?” His head spins back around and he looks at Virgil hopefully. Virgil sighs, shaking his head.

“I… I need to find a place to hide, Patton. So… I’m just gonna… go.”

Virgil never thought it was possible for a robot to look so heartbroken, but Patton’s face absolutely  _fell_  as Virgil walked away from him. “Oh, uh…. Well… I guess this is goodbye? Okay… I’m just gonna…” He turns away from Virgil. “I’m sorry that I’m so… dysfunctional.” Virgil pauses, glancing back at Patton. “So uh… Go ahead. I do understand. I do…. Bye-bye.” Virgil looks at Morph, fighting with himself mentally. He really needed to find a hiding place, and Patton was…. Well, he was loud, and crazy, and could turn on Virgil any second. Virgil sighs.

“Look…. If you’re gonna come along, you’re gonna have to stop talking.”

Patton jumps up, smiling and running over to Virgil. “Oh, this is great!” He jumps into Virgil’s arms, and Virgil scrambles to catch him. “Me and my best buddy, lookin’ for a-!” He wilts slightly at the glare Virgil shoots him. “Being quiet. Yep.” He hugs Virgil’s head.

“And you have to stop  _touching me_.”

Patton grins and nods, hopping out of Virgil’s arms. “Touching and talking, the two big no-no’s. Got it!”

Virgil sighs, looking around. “Okay… I think we should go that way…” He turns to walk in a different direction, and Patton grabs his arm to stop him.

“Hey! Before we go on our big adventure… search…  _thing_. We should stop by my place!” He pulls a bushel of those tube-shaped stalks aside to reveal a strange sort of egg-shaped structure with a large opening in its side about half a mile away; possibly a previously crashed pod that had long since been overtaken by vegetation, for all Virgil could tell. He grins.  _Perfect_.

“Pat, I think you just solved my problem.”

“Ooh, really? What’d I do?”

* * *

Virgil looks around the interior as Logan carries Roman further inside, Patton bustling about to dust things off, move clutter around, and clear a space for Roman. Now that he was actually inside the structure, it was pretty obvious that it wasn’t some felled craft. But then… what was it? Was it always intended to be Patton’s home even when Flint was alive?

The same strange pattern decorating both the planet’s metallic surface and the surface of the map was scattered across the round walls of Patton’s home. Round hatches protruded from the floor, and various random objects – a chess set, a sail and mast, a couple small barrels, bottles, pots and jars – were cluttered near the back; Virgil’s best guess was Patton’s room, though he couldn’t fathom how having a bunch of random junk was the same as having a room full of toys and books. Aside from the hatches and the clutter, the inside of the structure was essentially empty, now having been covered in moss and other foliage since it seemed Patton wasn’t too big on upkeep. And who could blame him? He was just a robot, stranded alone on a planet for god knows how long.

“Sorry about the mess, guys! You think in a hundred years I might’a cleaned up a little more but..” He laughs lightly. “You kinda stop expecting company, I guess, and I’m only a robot!” He turns around, smiling as he watches Logan set Roman against one of the larger hatches in the floor, providing a decent support for Roman to lay back in a slightly elevated position. “Aw, how cute! How about drinks for the happy couple?” He grabs a tray from behind the sail and holds it out, two flower pots (one with a wrench in it) sloshing oil onto its surface.

Logan grimaces. “Ah, no thank you. And we are not a couple, I am merely acting as the captain’s physician until we get off this planet.” He shrugs off his coat, looking around. “The markings on the walls are highly intriguing. They closely resemble the ones on the map; likely a long-forgotten hieroglyphic language.”

“Mr. Shae.” Virgil turns from his own observing to look down at Roman, who’s sitting up despite the obvious pain he’s in, one arm in a makeshift sling. “Stop anyone who tries to approach.” He grunts and curls in on himself, and Logan places his folded-up coat behind Roman, guiding him to lay back and use the coat as a pillow.

“Yes, yes, captain. Now you should listen to me. You need to rest, as you’re injured and further movement could exacerbate your condition. Lie still.”

Roman grins up at him. “Very forceful, doctor. Go ahead, say something else.”

The tone he uses has Logan blushing slightly, though Virgil doesn’t know if it’s out of embarrassment, frustration, or something else.

“Hey, look! More of your friends!” Virgil and Logan turn to regard Patton, who’s standing at the threshold of the structure and gesturing outside. He grins and turns to look back outside, jumping and waving his arms. “Guys, guys! We’re over here!” Patton gives surprised cries as he dodges a few solar gun blasts and Virgil rushes over to him, pulling him inside and to the ground.

With his heart beginning to beat harder in his chest, he cocks his own solar gun and rises from his crouch to see over the lip of the opening, firing at the rapidly-approaching pirates. It’s one against six, and Virgil can feel anxiety clawing at his chest and squeezing his stomach as he dodges solar blasts while still trying to hit the ones firing at him.

Too bad he’s a terrible shot. He’s never even held a solar gun before today. He ducks back inside to reload, the onslaught continuing.

“Stop, stop! Hold your fire!”

Virgil loads a new cartridge into the gun and cocks it, getting ready to shoot up again and resume the fight, but a voice calling up the hill stops him.

“ _Hello_?”

Declan.

Virgil peaks over the lip of the opening, glancing down the hill to see Declan’s flesh hand waving a makeshift white flag from behind a drop in the hill’s side. “Virg-o?” Declan pulls himself up onto the hill, grinning his usual smooth grin. Normally, it would calm Virgil’s nerves.

Now it just makes his blood burn.

“If it’s alright with the captain, I’d appreciate if I could have a  _short_  word with you.”

Virgil ducks back down, glancing at Roman and Logan with wide eyes. What was he supposed to do? What if this was a trap? What if they shot him as soon as he stood up?

“No tricks, just a little  _palaver_.”

Roman scoffs. “He must be here to bargain for the map, that worthless piece of-“ He tries to sit up and groans, Logan putting a hand on his shoulder to push him back to laying down.

“Captain, I insist you lie still. I mean it.”

Virgil’s eyes widen slightly in understanding and he grins. “That means he doesn’t know the real map is on the ship…” He glances down at the gun in his hands, thinking, and looks back up at the two adults across from him. “I have a plan.”

* * *

Virgil walks down the short hill, Declan walking up to meet him halfway. Morph flits along behind Virgil, quickly catching up and letting out a happy little titter as he flies up to Declan, rubbing against his cheek. Declan smiles and pets the blob. “Ah, Morph. I was  _wondering_  where you went off to.” He sits down on a more elevated part of the hill and rubs at his robotic thigh, letting out a tired and pained sigh. “This leg’s been finicky since that game of  _tag_  we had, back at the galley.” He grins up at Virgil, and for the first time since they met Virgil can see the malice behind it. He grimaces.

Declan sighs.

“Look…. Whatever you heard back there, about you, I  _didn’t_  mean any of it. The men… they thought I’d gone  _soft_. They would have gutted me and  _killed_  the three of you if they’d lost their trust in me. I  _didn’t_  want that.”

Virgil almost believed him. Almost.

Declan wraps his robotic arm around Virgil, pulling him close. He glances back towards where his men are in hiding, then at the teen beside him, lowering his voice. “Listen. If we play our cards right, we can  _both_  walk away with the treasure.” Virgil puts a hand to his chin, thinking it over, and Declan grins.

“Yeah?”

Declan laughs, clapping Virgil on the shoulder. “If you get me that map, then I  _promise_ , an even portion of the treasure is  _yours_.” He straightens up and offers Virgil his hand, confident he’d tricked- no,  _convinced_  Virgil.

Virgil sighs and shakes his head, the smile slipping from his face. “You’re…. You’re really something, you know that?” Declan’s hand falls to his side and his shoulders droop slightly. “All that talk of greatness…. Light coming off my sails. What a joke.” Virgil laughs as he paces around Declan, the sound making his chest ache and pulling the grin from his face.  _Oh_. “I mean, at least you taught me one thing. Stick to it, right? Well that’s just what I’m gonna do.” His tone grows more aggressive, angrier, and Declan’s eyes widen in slow understanding.  _No_ …. “I’m gonna make sure you never see one drabloon of  _my_ treasure.”

Declan feels rage swell in his chest, an old, burning feeling that he’s been clinging to since he lost his arm. “That treasure is  _owed_  to me!” He snarls.

“Well try to find it without  _my_  map!” Virgil shouts back, practically in Declan’s face. Declan growls low in his throat.

“You  _still_  don’t know how to pick your fights.” Virgil shoots him a scathing glare as the cyborg stands. “Now, you listen here. If I don’t have that map by dawn tomorrow, I’ll blast all of you to  _dust_!” Morph flinches back at the rage dripping from Declan’s voice, his body, his words, cowering behind Virgil. Virgil stands resolute, not taking his eyes off the pirate. Declan turns to head down the hill, calling over his shoulder, “Come on Morph.” When the blob doesn’t flit to his side, his anger sparks again and he spins around, shouting, “ _Now_!” Morph clings to Virgil, cowering behind him, and Declan sneers, starting the walk down the hillside.

“ _Fine_.”


	14. Chapter 13

Virgil doesn’t exactly know what’s going on with Roman, but it doesn’t look good. As the sun sets and night crawls in, turning their environment an inky black, Logan and Virgil sit by Roman’s side, Patton sitting at the entrance to play lookout in case the “carbon-based lifeforms” fall asleep. Logan hasn’t left Roman’s side once since he brought him inside their hideaway, and Virgil finds it strange.

 _Well_ , he thinks to himself,  _death brings people closer_.

He shakes his head. He can’t think like that, not when they still had to stop the pirates and get off the planet. For all he knew Roman wasn’t even mortally injured.

“Gentleman,” Roman’s voice pulls Virgil from his thoughts and he looks down at the captain, who’s starting to look a little pale. “We must… stay together and… and…” Roman grimaces in pain and closes his eyes, apparently having used what little energy he had as he relaxes back against the hatch.

Logan leans over Roman worriedly. “Captain, please open your eyes. I implore you to finish your sentence. What must we do? Captain?”

Virgil thinks this is the most emotional he’s ever seen Logan. He wonders if Logan has ever seen anyone die.

Roman opens his eyes with a smile. “Doctor, you have… wonderful eyes.”

Logan sits back, running a hand through his hair. “He’s delirious.”

“You gotta help him.” Virgil pleads. He knows it’s stupid, but he feels like this is his fault. If he hadn’t helped that stupid salamander, Roman would be fine and Emile would be alive.

 _Stop it, that’s not helping_.

Logan gives a frustrated sigh. “I’m an astronomer, not a doctor. Well, I am a doctor, but not…  _that_  kind of doctor. I have a doctorate, it’s not the same thing. I’m… useless.”

Virgil frowns and puts a hand on Logan’s shoulder. “It’s… it’s okay, Logan. Just… It’s alright.” He steps away from Logan and turns to walk away as Patton rushes over to placate the stressed astrophysicist.

“Yeah, Doc! Virge knows just what to do to get us out of this mess! It’s just- like- Virge just  _knows_  things…” He walks backwards over to Virgil, grinning at Logan as he leans in and whispers, “Any ideas?”

Virgil looks out over the planet, his eyes wandering up into the sky and spotting the I.M.G. Nation. “If we don’t get the map, we’re dead.” His eyes drop back to the scenery outside, spotting the small fire where the pirates are no doubt camped out. “If we try to leave, we’re dead.” He turns away from the opening. “If we stay here-“

Morph flies in front of him, smiling. “We’re dead! We’re dead we’re dead we’re dead!”

Virgil sighs, and Morph frowns, tittering worriedly. Patton glances from Virgil to Morph, whispering none too quietly to the blob, “Well… I think Virge needs some quiet time, so I’m just gonna… go out the back door.” He heads back towards the mess in the back of the room, and Virgil perks up as he hears the creak of a hinge.

“Back door?”

Patton pushes a large spherical hatch until a manhole-sized opening faces upwards, letting in a soft beam of light. “Oh, yeah! I like it ‘cause I get a nice little breeze…” He rolls onto his back, leaning against the sphere. “You know, ventilation – among friends –“

Virgil runs over and leans in, peering through the opening. Far below him, running down for miles and miles beyond sight, is a scattering of pipes, catwalks, wires, and other things, almost resembling the innards of their ship. “Whoa… What is all this?”

Patton perks up, his head sticking out over the hole to catch the slight breeze that rustles his loose wires. “Oh! You mean the miles and miles of machinery that run through the whole planet? I dunno!”

Virgil starts, glancing at Patton dubiously. He shakes himself out of it, calling over to Logan. “Hey, doc, I think I found a way out!” He climbs up onto the orb, positioning himself so both feet are on either side of the hole and holding him over it, the breeze rustling his hair. Seeing the nearly fathomless depths has his stomach fluttering, but…

But it was better than dying by pirates.

“No, Virgil, wait.”

Virgil looks over at Logan and Roman, who seems to be unconscious again. “The captain ordered us to stay tog-“

“I’ll be back.” Virgil pulls his legs together, falling through the hole. Patton dives after him with an excited cry of, “Canonball~!” and Morph flits after them.

Logan sighs. No one ever listens to him.

* * *

 

Virgil opens the hatch slowly, peeking out at his surroundings. It seems the back door lead them under Patton’s place to just beyond where the pirates were camped out; about the same distance Virgil had been when he’d met Patton. He studies the sleeping pirates for a moment, silent as he lifts the hatch more to stand up straight.

“So what’s the plan?” Patton asks cheerfully, jumping up and pushing the hatch back all the way.

Virgil rounds on Patton, shushing him and clamping his mouth shut. He casts a furtive glance at the pirates, but luck seems to be in his favor; they’re still asleep. He looks back over to Patton, whispering, “Okay, so. We sneak back to the ‘Nation, disable the canons, and bring back the map.” Patton nods along, speaking quietly around Virgil’s hand.

“That’s a good plan! I like that plan. One thing; how do we get there?”

Virgil grins, gesturing over to the skiff the pirates had taken. “On that.”

* * *

Once they reach The I.M.G. Nation, they peer over the trim to see if anyone’s on deck. Deciding that the remaining crew must be asleep, Patton and Virgil hop up onto the trim and back onto the deck, Patton tripping as he lands and crashing onto the deck with a loud metallic clang. Virgil shoots him a glare and Patton stands up, dusting himself off and grinning sheepishly. “Sorry, sorry!” He whispers. Virgil rolls his eyes and gestures for Patton to follow.

The two creep across the deck and down the stairs into the ship’s interior, stopping just at the bottom of the stairs. Virgil peeks around the corner, making sure the ship’s empty as he whispers to Patton. “I’ll go grab the map, you stay here.”

Patton stands up straight and gives a salute. “Got it. I’ll disable the canons, sir!”

“No- wait, Patton!” But Patton is already making his way down the catwalks, turning a corner and singing to himself happily under his breath. Virgil sighs.

* * *

“Disable the light canons. Right! That shouldn’t be so hard! I just gotta find that one wire, right?” He opens the control panel, his jaw going slack at the sheer number of red, yellow and blue wires crisscrossing the metal surface. Okay, so it was  _kind_   _of_  hard. No biggie, though! He could do this.

* * *

Virgil walked silently into the skiff storage space, looking around to make sure no one was already there. He spots the coil of rope sitting in the middle of the catwalk, just like he’d left it, and he rushes over to it. Shifting the rope aside from where it’d fallen into itself, he sighs in relief once he uncovers the map, Morph making a happy noise at his shoulder. Virgil picks it up, relief flooding his veins.

“Yes.”

Then an alarm goes off.

* * *

Patton winces, having just pulled a red wire out of its socket. “Bad Patton, bad! Wrong wire!” He rushes to put it back, and the alarm stops.

* * *

Virgil runs through the interior, rushing for the stairs. “Shit, I knew this was a bad idea. That stupid robot’s gonna get us killed-“ His voice dies in his throat when he finally reaches the stairs, only to find Remy standing above them on deck. He smirks.

“Cabin boy.”

Virgil’s heart jumps into his throat and he runs, tipping over barrels, boxes, and anything else he can get his hands on. Remy’s long legs carry him over the upturned supplies with ease, barely slowing him down. He runs along the walls, up onto the ceiling, getting closer and closer to Virgil. He sneers as he approaches, practically breathing down the human’s neck. Virgil doesn’t dare look back; he knows if he does, he’s definitely done for.

Morph sees Remy and lets out a surprised cry, turning into a pie and throwing himself at Remy’s face. Under any other circumstances Virgil would have found it hilarious, but in the moment he’s just silently thankful the blob is on  _his_  side as he keeps running, gaining valuable distance between himself and the crustacean alien. Remy growls in annoyance and pries Morph off of his face, forcing him to return to his normal form, and throws him. He lands in the opening of a pipe, screaming as he gets sucked in and carried away. Virgil ducks behind a corner, trying to catch his breath. He turns the safety off on his solar gun, taking a quick moment before he’s spinning around and raising his gun. He comes face to face with Remy, who stares at the gun with surprise and a little fear.

Then the lights go out.

* * *

“Whoops! That wasn’t right either…” Patton’s green eyes glow, the only light in the entire room (and probably the entire ship) as they look over the control panel.

The emergency generator kicks on, bathing the interior of the ship in soft red light. Virgil gasps when his sight is finally returned to him, the hairs on the back of his neck raising when he realizes Remy isn’t there. He looks around frantically, gun raised and ready to shoot anything that moves. He turns around, checking to make sure Remy wasn’t behind him.

Maybe he ran? Maybe he left to get in contact with Declan and tell him what was happening?

Morph pops out of the pipe behind Virgil and screams when he sees Remy, who was lowering himself to strike right behind Virgil. Morph turns into a hand, poking Remy in the eyes. Remy lets out an annoyed and pained cry, covering his eyes. Virgil spins around, eyes wide, and Remy smacks him across the face, sending him sprawled out on his back, the solar gun clattering down the catwalk a few feet away. Virgil reaches for it just as Remy lands in a crouch right on top of him, effectively trapping him in place with his legs.

Remy’s claw clamps around Virgil’s throat. He’s choking Virgil, who’s kicking uselessly and scratching at Remy’s claw as he gasps for air that isn’t coming. His heart hammers in his chest. He thinks  _I’m going to die_.

* * *

“Maybe this is it!” Patton pulls a wire out of its socket, and almost immediately everything that wasn’t tied down begins to float into the air, including Patton, who stares at the wire with a hand to his chin. “Maybe not…”

* * *

Remy and Virgil begin ascending through the air. Virgil sees the wood hatched window above them leading directly up on deck and kicks Remy in the chest with all his might, sending the alien crashing into the window. The wood splinters and breaks, sending Remy up up up into the air above deck. Virgil tries to maneuver himself desperately to grab for the splintered remains of the hatching, fingers clawing at the rough wood, trying to get a decent grip, but it slips through his fingers as he keeps rising.

Remy grabs a nearby rope and pulls himself to the mast, smirking as he watches Virgil flounder in midair, unable to grab anything and rising higher and higher by the minute. He tries to snap at the human’s leg, but Virgil manages to spin himself just enough to avoid getting caught. His back smacks into the crow’s nest and he cried out, the breath getting knocked out of him. He’s spinning, unable to tell which way is up and unable to find anything to grab. Then he sees it. The flag.

In a last-ditch effort to avoid flying off into deep space, his fingers scrabble desperately for the black fabric, his heart beating a mile a minute, wishing he could slow his ascent for just  _five seconds_. He finally gains purchase, gripping the flag for all he’s worth.

Remy climbs the mast with expert ease, grinning as he watches Virgil’s eyes widen in fear, then try desperately to grab for his solar gun as it floats by. His hand taps the handle once, twice, three times.

“Come on, come on!”

The gun spins away, flying into space.

“No!”

Remy laughs, reaching to cut the rope tying the flag to the mast. “Oh, yes. I’ve been waiting to do this for a long time, kid. Say hello to Mr. Picani for me.” He looks up, scowling when he sees Virgil pulling himself closer to the mast by the flag and leaping for it, gripping the wood surface tightly. Remy climbs up the mast, prepared to grab for Virgil, when Virgil kicks him in the chest, sending him flying up into the flag.

“Tell him yourself!”

It would have been a good comeback, if he hadn’t sounded so scared.

The rope snaps, loosing the flag and sending it – along with Remy, who was tangled in it – floating off into space. He screams, and Virgil watches with a cold numbness until he can’t see the alien anymore.

* * *

“Back you go you naughty plug!” Patton cries, kicking the air like he’s swimming and using the momentum to plug the wire back in. A blue light expands from the control panel outward across the whole ship, and the artificial gravity turns back on. Patton lands on his face with a soft grunt.

* * *

Virgil sits in the crow’s nest, disoriented and still scared, trying to get his heart to calm down. Morph shoots out of the pipe used as a communication tube, coughing up soot. Virgil stares at him blankly for a moment, his mind fighting through the fog of  _holy shit I just killed someone_  to process what he was seeing. “Morph…?”

“Laser canons disconnected, Captain Virge, Sir!” Patton salutes from the stairs, covered in various sparking disconnected wires. Virgil stands slowly and peeks over the edge down at the robot. “That wasn’t so hard!” Patton smiles up at him.

Virgil takes the map out of his pocket, looking at it for a moment. After this was over, he was going to take the longest nap of his  _life_.


	15. Chapter 14

Virgil climbed back up through the porthole into Patton’s home, pulling Patton out after him. He holds the map in his hand, smiling down at it, and makes his way over to where Logan and Roman were laying down when he left. The light has long since disappeared for the night and the two adults had turned off the lamp, likely to sleep, so the entirety of the inside of Patton’s home was bathed in shadows. Virgil doesn’t pay it any mind as he rushes over to where he sees a vague lump in the dark; Roman and Logan, likely asleep.

“Doc, wake up. I got the map!”

The lump shifts, a hand reaching out. It’s only when the hand is exposed by a small beam of natural light that Virgil notices it’s not Logan’s hand, but by then it’s too late and the robotic appendage is prying the orb out of Virgil’s hand. Declan sits up, smirking at Virgil from just outside the soft beam of light, his face barely visible but the red of his eye shining bright. “Fine work, Virg-o.”

Virgil’s eyes widen and a muffled cry catches his attention, drawing his gaze away from the cyborg. His eyes are starting to get used to the darkness inside the structure, so he can just make out Logan and Roman tied up and gagged, struggling against the two pirates holding them in place. Sneers and taunts start to echo from all around the room and Virgil looks around as the rest of the crew show themselves, slowly surrounding the teen. He runs, but four-arms and purple-guy grab his arms and pull him back, keeping him in place. Virgil grunts in pain when the motion pulls painfully at his shoulders, his eyes darting around for something, anything, and his heart beating so hard he’s sure they can hear it. He tries to pull out of their grip, but four-arms’ tentacle arms wrap more securely around one of Virgil’s arms and purple-guy grips Virgil’s other arm more securely, effectively pinning him in place.

Morph gives himself sharp teeth, flitting down to purple-guy’s weird, fat, lizard-like tail and biting it hard. The alien’s tail swats him like a bug and he splatters against the floor before reforming and ducking into Virgil’s pocket with a scared whimper.

“What’s this?” The female pirate maneuvers around Patton before grabbing him around the middle with one arm, using the other to stay… standing? Can it be called standing when your hands are your feet? Who cares. Patton makes a surprised sound and turns his head to look at her as she bounces up to free her other hand, landing on the spherical opening of the manhole. She jabs a bony finger against his metal face, making him flinch. “Stick of metal.” She grumbles.

“Ah! Not the face!” Patton pleads.

Declan saunters up to Virgil, who’s still trying in vain to free himself. “You’re just like me, Virg-o. You  _hate_  losing.” Virgil scowls up at him, still fighting the two aliens’ hold, and Declan takes a step back, tossing the map between his hands before taking it and turning it over, looking over its surface. He tries to press it in random places, to twist the metal, but nothing happens. He frowns with slight irritation and changes his hand into the contraption he uses to break eggs, but they can’t find an opening. He switches to the clamp, grips, and twists, but the sphere doesn’t shift, twist, or change in any way. He growls low in his throat, mouth pulled into a grimace and eyes narrowed down at the orb. Declan looks over at Virgil, who’s smirking up at him and shaking his head, and that sets the cook off.

The two crewmen holding him back let to, and Declan grabs the front of Virgil’s shirt, lifting him into the air. “You think this is funny, do you? I should gut you all for the trouble you’ve caused!”

Virgil’s smirk slips away, and he can feel himself trembling just slightly. Declan feels it too, and shoves the orb at Virgil, letting his shirt go. Virgil lands on his feet with a soft grunt and catches the orb. “Open it!” He changes his clamp into a gun and points it at Logan and Roman. “Now!” He bellows, eye glowing red. Virgil looks to the two adults with wide eyes. Roman looks more than a little miffed with Declan, shaking his head emphatically. Virgil knows he’d rather die than let a pirate get their hands on the treasure. Logan, however, is nodding. Figures. A cowardly scientist to the end.

Virgil turns back to Declan, glaring up at him as he presses into the right circles and twists the orb without breaking eye contact once. The orb clicks and whirs quietly, soft blue-green light spilling out of it to fill the room around them. It settles into the green hologram of the very planet they’re on, the pirates letting out stunned and awed sounds at the sight. Declan grins, his eyes alight. It makes Virgil’s stomach churn.

Suddenly, the hologram all but dissolves, changing from a planet to a sort of green string, stretching out the front entrance of Patton’s hideaway and to the left. Declan races to the opening and peers out, watching the green light extend into the darkness. He laughs with delight. Finally. Finally, the fruits of his labors were within reach. He glances over his shoulder at his men. “Tie him up, and leave him with the others to-“ The light suddenly starts disappearing, being sucked back into the room and back into the map. Declan whirls around and glares at Virgil. Virgil glowers at him defiantly.

“You want the map, you’re taking me with you.”

Declan growls, his red eye locked on Virgil. Then he takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and smiles. When he opens his eyes, the robotic one is glowing golden once again. His smile melts into a serious, flat expression. “We’ll take them  _all_.”

* * *

The skiff races after the green trail of mist-like light, trying to keep up with its finite trail. As the end dissipates into mist, the front extends; a mechanism surely invented that way to keep someone from following, in the event that was likely to happen. Flint was a very cautious – and very smart – man.

Roman and Logan watch worriedly from the back of the skiff, ignoring the guns pointed at them in favor of Virgil. Declan has his arm slung across Virgil’s shoulders, holding him close with a triumphant grin, looking for all the world like a father making a proud discovery with his son, rather than a manipulative pirate threatening a teenage boy into giving him what he wants. Patton stands not far off, not deemed enough of a threat to be tied up and held at gunpoint like the two aliens.

As soon as they land, Declan is stepping out of the skiff and onto mossy ground. The trail continues forward, but the canopy has grown too dense for the solar sail to absorb any light, so the rest of their trip will have to be on foot. Purple-guy stays behind on the skiff to watch over Roman and Logan while Virgil, Patton, Declan, and the rest of the pirates continue on. Morph quivers from inside Virgil’s pocket, making the occasional worries sound or scared whimper. Virgil pats the top of his little slime head. “It’s okay Morph… It’s gonna be fine…” He couldn’t tell if he was trying to convince Morph or himself more. Virgil had a feeling of dread pooling in his gut; he was going to die here, and he was going to get Logan and Roman killed too, all because he’d been desperate to chase a legend. And his dad would never know what happened.

Patton catches up to Virgil. “Virge, I don’t know if it’s just me, but I’m starting to see my life pass before my eyes.” He waves a hand as if demonstrating fleeting images flying right beside them. Virgil gazes at him quizzically, with a hint of worry. “At least, I think it’s my life…” He grips his head, as Virgil has learned that he tends to do when he gets too caught up in his missing memory. “Was I ever dancing with an android named Lupè?!” He shouts. Virgil flinches and pushes Patton down with a hand on the robot’s head, shushing him.

“Dude _, shut it_.” Virgil glances ahead at the silhouette of Declan, trudging ahead of them. “This isn’t over yet.”

Declan pauses, looking up at the green trail above him, watching it pulse quickly with a grin. “We’re getting close, men. The treasure must be close.” The crewmen cheer, and Declan grabs Virgil by his shirt to haul him along. Virgil digs his feet into the moss, but Declan is larger and stronger, and drags him nearly effortlessly.

Declan cuts through the tube-like plants in his path effortlessly, stepping over their oozing stumps to follow the green trail straight to the edge of a cliff. The light stops right where the ground drops. It doesn’t continue forward, or dip down, or even rise up. It just… stops. Declan lets out a frustrated, guttural sound and snarls, “ _Where is it?_ ”

“I see nothing. One great big stinking pile of nothing!” The lookout huffs as he looks around. The green light suddenly sucks itself back into the map, closing up. Declan turns to look at Virgil behind him, who’s looking over the map with a confused pinch to his brow.

“What’s going on,  _Virg-o_?” He adjusts his hat and crosses his arms, watching impatiently as Virgil presses all the buttons and tries to twist the orb to no avail.

“I don’t know,” He grunts, trying to twist it the other way. “I can’t get it open.”

The crewmen shift restlessly. It’s plain to see from their expressions and how they’re muttering to each other that they’re getting tired of waiting, and more than a little annoyed with the human. Declan frowns in thought. The head-and-arms lady hops over to Virgil. “We shouldn’t have followed this stupid human boy!” She jumps up and pushes him over, sending him sprawling out over the moss to catch himself on his hands. Virgil grunts in annoyance, about to speak up when something catches his eye; a spherical indent in the surface of the planet, with the same lines and circles carved into it as the map.

“I suggest you get that map in working order,  _quickly_ , boy.” Declan spits, glancing at the crew out of the corner of his eye. They look about ready to throw him off the cliff and try to find the treasure themselves. Virgil brushes some of the moss away, exposing more of the metallic surface underneath. The crew’s mutterings grow louder, suggesting ways to kill Virgil plainly as they grow too impatient to care what the prisoners hear.

They start approaching Virgil, the lookout shouting, “Throw him over the cliff already!” Declan looks around, barely suppressing his growing panic. The crew are too far gone, more than done with this failed expedition; if they can’t have the treasure, they want blood. Declan turns to Virgil, his warning dying in his throat as he watches Virgil practically shove the map into an indent in the planet’s surface. Almost instantly the cracks in the orb emit a white light, the light spreading out from the orb across the planet’s surface and exposing all of the lines carved underneath all the moss. The rapidly-spreading light gives the planet a slightly eerie green glow as it’s filtered through the moss, halting the approaching crew and causing them to go silent.

The light fades, drawing back towards the orb before lifting up in the form of a holographic, spherical map; a much smaller version of the one Virgil first discovered on Montressor that’s about the size of his chest. Virgil and Declan reach out to touch it at the same time, but stop when something else catches their eyes. Six beams of light, rapidly approaching from under the moss, make their way towards the group from the bottom of the cliff. When they reach the base, they become one and travel up its side and into the air, drawing a line of light two-hundred feet tall. Then, the line splits down the middle and opens into a triangular-shaped doorway. A gust of wind blows from the other side, surprising the group. Virgil and Declan both reach up instinctively to cover their heads as they peer at the strange sight before them.

In the middle of the triangle, as if someone had cut and glued a piece of a different picture to the scenery in front of them, was a bright, light-blue-and-purple nebula with shimmering stars. Declan gasps softly, lowering his arm. “Lord, have mercy… That’s…”

“The Lagoon Nebula..?” Virgil mutters from beside him, confusion evident in his voice.

Declan’s eyebrows furrow in thought and he rubs his chin. “But that’s… halfway across the galaxy…”

Virgil looks at the holographic map in front of him, looking at all the markings across its surface. “’A big door’,” He taps one of the markings; the line closes back up before splitting open again, the scene now displaying some sort of collection of floating ports on what looks to be crystalline stalactites. “’Opening and closing’.” He taps another one, and the line collapses and splits once again to show a windy, ruddy terrain with strange protuberances shaped almost like the communication pipes on the I.M.G.Nation. Virgil looks back down at the map, eyes roaming over the markings. “Let’s see…. Kinapis….” He smiles. “Montressor Space Port.” He taps the moon-shaped mark; the line collapses and splits once again to show the Montressor Space Port, ships docking and embarking just as they were the day he’d left home. Virgil’s smile turns more excited.

“So that’s how Flint did it!” He starts tapping random markings to see the different locations. Declan turn to watch him, looking confused but curious. “He used this portal to… Roam the universe, stealing treasure!”

Declan grits his teeth, biting back a growl and gripping Virgil’s shirt to shove him out of the way. “But where’d he  _stash_  it all?” Declan starts tapping random markings searching for the treasure. Virgil scowls and rolls his shoulders. “Where’s that  _damn_  treasure?!” Virgil tsks and looks away, crossing his arms. Patton watches on, the faint feeling of a niggling thought persisting in his mind.

“Treasure… Treasure….” He grips at the wires poking out of the back of his head. “Ugh… It’s… Buried in the…”

Virgil perks an eyebrow, watching Patton for a moment before an earlier freak-out comes to mind. His eyes widen in realization. “Buried in the centroid of the mechanism.” It hadn’t made any sense when Paton was ranting and raving back when they met, but now… Seeing the door Patton had mentioned, and the map… It had to be. He grins. “What if the  _whole planet’s_  the mechanism? And the treasure is buried at the center?” The closest crew looked shocked for only a brief moment before they pick up their discarded pickaxes and swinging at the planet’s surface. The steel pickaxes crumple once they make contact with the planet, useless.

Declan grimaces, turning away from the map. “Then how the  _hell_  are we supposed to get there?” He snarls before turning back to the map, pressing random markings. Virgil walks over to him, nudging him aside as he looks over the map.

“You just have to… Open the right door.” He smiles as he locates Treasure Planet, pressing on it. The gateway collapses and splits. Instead of showing the mossy, mushroom-tree laden planet though, it shows pipes hanging down from the ceiling, the space dark. While the crew take a moment to take in the sight, Virgil walks towards the gateway. He sticks an arm in, slightly surprised when it actually passes through the portal, and passes the rest of the way through. Declan follows him almost immediately after, his robotic hand on Virgil’s shoulder holding him back while the cyborg walks further into the space to look around. The rest of the crew quickly follow, muttering to themselves and looking around in the darkness, following Declan.

Declan stops, gasping softly at the sight before him. Just beyond the metal platform they’re standing on is an endless expanse of gold and jewels, with large thrusters along the ceiling blasting flames intermittently into large pipes down below. The crew all shout excitedly and start running, grabbing at the treasure and exploring the seemingly endless riches. In reality, the treasure is in essence a smaller planet within Treasure Planet, rotating peacefully and being kept in place by the blasts into the pipes. Patton watches the pirates frolicking about in the treasure, Virgil by his side. He scratches at his head; that niggling feeling still won’t go away. “This seems so… Familiar… I can’t- I can’t remember…”

“Pat, c’mon.” Virgil nudges the robot and nods towards a gold-buried ship. “We’re getting out of here, and we aren’t leaving empty-handed.” Virgil makes sure to check that Declan is preoccupied with the treasure before he starts sneaking towards the spit, Patton at his side.

“But-! Virge! Virge, wait!”

Declan slowly lowers down onto his knees, looking down at the gold and jewels around him reverently. “A lifetime of searching… At long last…” He scoops up some of the treasure in his hands, a giddy sort of pressure building in his chest and making him feel young again. “I can touch it!”


	16. Chapter 15

“You know what’s weird?” Patton babbles as he follows Virgil across the sea of treasure to the half-buried sip. “It just feels so… frustrating! And I don’t know why,” Virgil climbs on board and hauls Patton onto the ship. “But there’s something that’s been…  _nagging_  at the back of my mind…” Patton falls over with a shout once something catches his eye, and Virgil follows his line of sight to see what freaked the robot out so much.

“…Captain Flint?”

“In the flesh!” Patton speaks almost reverently. A light beam shoots into a pipe nearby, illuminating the pirate’s silhouette, exposing the skeleton dressed in a captain’s uniform. “Well… Sort of!” Patton laughs lightly, standing up and dusting off his legs. “Except for, y’know, skin. And organs. And anything that resembles flesh. Y’know… It seems so…”

Virgil tunes out Patton’s chatter as he approaches the skeleton sitting up in his chair. Seeing the pirate’s skull with all his sharp teeth bared, his pointed, bony fingers, the facial structure that was practically built to snarl threateningly, Virgil feels almost like he’s meeting a celebrity after they’ve fallen out of the limelight. Virgil looks over his whole body closely – the man’s clothes are in surprisingly good condition – and notices that one bony, clawed hand is curled around something. With a slight sense of trepidation speeding up his heart, Virgil reaches forward slowly and wraps his fingers around the Something in Flint’s hand and pulls. For a moment, nothing happens, and Virgil almost swears. Instead he tries again, harder, his boot propped on the chair to give him leverage. Flint’s hand breaks, releasing the Something and sending Virgil tumbling backwards.

“Oh, the mind is a terrible thing to lose!” Patton laments, sitting back on a pile of treasure. Virgil looks over the Something in his hand, taking in its round shape and how one end of it seems to be bent, like it’s the edge of something. An idea sparks in his mind and he looks at Patton. More specifically, the back of Patton’s head where the wires stick out. He looks back at the Something in his hand and notices how the interior side seems to be some kind of computer tech. And the thing is the same color as Patton, so….

“Pat, hold still, okay?” Virgil sits up and reaches out to steady Patton’s head, making sure the robot is facing away from him.

“Wha- oh! Virge, your hands are very, very cold! I-“ His speech warps as Virgil raises the Something to Patton’s head and the wires in his head connect themselves to the strange chip, then pull the Something into place against Patton’s head.

Virgil just found Patton’s mind.

“Woah!” Patton turns to look at Virgil, his voice still distorted. His eyes become slightly distorted as well before settling back to normal, only now they’re blue instead of bright green. He looks up at Virgil and smiles. “Hey there! You know, I was just thinking… thinking! Oh! My memories are back! This is great!” He leaps at Virgil, pulling the human into a hug. “Oh thank you thank you thank you! I remember everything! Right up until Flint pulled my memory circuit so I couldn’t tell anyone about his booby-trap!” Virgil’s eyes widen and he’s just about to ask Patton what he means when something explodes and rumbles overhead. “Speaking of which…”

The structures holding the blasters along the ceiling start exploding. “Flint didn’t want anyone to steal his treasure, so he rigged the whole planet to blow!” Patton shouts in a rush. The first blaster comes loose from the ceiling and collides with the mini planet of treasure, breaking through and sinking in, splitting the treasure planet like cracked ice. With the destruction started, some of the remaining blasters fire light canon beams off-course, firing at and melting the treasure. Nearby crew rush to escape as a beam quickly grows nearer. Virgil watches in silent horror, the cacophony of gold being sent flying, metal crashing into metal, and the screams of the crew all driving up his anxiety even more. His heart hammers in his chest and his brain screams at him to  _run, make a break for it_ , but his feet refuse to cooperate.

Patton grabs Virgil’s arm and shakes him. “Run, Virge! Run for your life!”

Virgil looks around before running over to the control panel of the ship and scooting himself under it. “You go back and help the captain and Logan. If I’m not there in five minutes… Leave without me.” Virgil starts working to rewire the ship.

“I’m not leaving without my buddy!” Patton cries, grabbing Virgil’s feet and pulling him out from under the panel. Virgil glares up at him from the floor, holding two sparking wires just inches from each other. “Unless… He looks at me like that. Bye, Virge!” Patton lets go of Virgil’s feet, letting them fall to the floor and running off.

The blasts continue, carving an endless hole through the treasure planet that the treasure starts to fall into. Declan watches the carnage and his fleeing crew with wide, panicked eyes. This was everything he’s worked for. His whole life has led up to this, and now the treasure is being taken from him? “No! He cries out frantically, falling to his knees and clawing at the treasure in a futile effort to keep it from being lost. Two of his crewmen on the other side of the abyss try to push a chest further from said abyss and slip, falling into it with terrified screams. The panicked shouting of the rest of his crew catches his attention and he watches as they race for the exit. He scowls. “Get back here you  _useless imps_!”

They don’t turn to look at him, disappearing through the gateway.

Declan looks around at the rapidly disappearing treasure, using his cyborg eye to track and scan movement of living things. His eye catches something further down the way and zooms in, locking on Virgil who’s frantically rewiring and firing a ship with tons of treasure. He grins.

On the surface of Treasure Planet, Logan and Captain Roman still sit tied up in the dinghy the pirates have been using. A slight rumbling is the only indicator that something is going on, making Roman look around with curious apprehension. When it stops, he relaxes.

“All my life,” Logan’s voice catches Roman’s attention and he turns his head to listen, the two men tied up back-to-back. “I’ve dreamt of an adventure like this. Something that would turn Logan Abbott into a household name.” He sighs, his eyes gazing unseeing at the wood of the dinghy. “I’m… Sorry, that I was so useless on this expedition.”

Roman huffs lightly, forcing a small grin into his tone. “Don’t be stupid, you  _have_ been helpful. Truly.”

“I just feel so… weak.” Logan buries his head in his hands. He seems to realize his actions a second later as he sits up, looking at the rope tied loosely around one wrist with the other completely free. “With… particularly slim wrists, it would seem.” He grins, shoving his hands behind his back once again. Roman looks over his shoulder at the doctor with furrowed eyebrows. “Excuse me!” Logan calls to the large punkish alien that’s been left to keep watch. The alien grunts and turns around, glaring at the two men. “I have an inquiry. Is your body simply too rotund for your tiny, tiny head, or is it that your head is too small for your massive body?” Roman shoots him a look as if to say, ‘ _What the_  hell  _do you think you’re doing?!_ ’. The pirate stomps over to them and grabs the front of Logan’s shirt, lifting him off of the dinghy.

“I’ll pummel you good!” He snarls.

Logan grins. “Oh, I am sure you will. Before you do, however, I have one last question.” He pulls out the pirate’s solar gun and points it right at his belly, turning the safety off. “Is this yours?”

* * *

Virgil gets the thruster ignited just in time; with nearly every speck of treasure gone and the base split into dozens of pieces, there’s virtually no purchase left for the ship to rest on. The temperature rises as the treasure is melted by the magma down below, caused from the light canons. Virgil rolls his shoulders uncomfortably, his clothes starting to stick to his damp skin. A slight breeze caused by steering the ship rustles Virgil’s hair, a grin on his face and the butterfly heartbeat of anticipation humming in his veins. Morph flits to Virgil’s side, having spent most of this fiasco hidden in his pants pocket. “We are so out of here!” Virgil cries out happily and Morph chitters in response.

“Ah, Virg-o! Aren’t you a sight for sore  _eyes_.” Declan hops down from the ledge, letting go of the rope he’d been using to stand steady. Virgil spins around, his smile melting into a glare the instant he heard Declan’s voice. Declan saunters over to Virgil, passing the piles and piles of treasure; the only treasure left, now. Virgil looks around, grabbing for the nearest sword and pointing it right at Declan, making the cyborg freeze.

“Get away from me!” He snarls, hoping Declan won’t notice the slight tremor in his grip. Declan’s warm grin morphs into a low scowl, his eyes narrowed at the smaller human.

“I like you,  _boy_ , but I’ve come  _too far_  to let you stand between me and  _my treasure_.” He takes a step forward and Virgil takes a step back. He repeats this until Virgil’s back is pressed up against the helm. Virgil looks like a lost, scared little boy, trying to defend himself against a monster. And that’s just what he is, right? He’s thousands of miles from home, no friends or family nearby to speak of, completely out of his depth trying to deal with murderous pirates. Declan should find him pathetic. Virgil  _is_  pathetic. Declan takes a couple steps closer, noticing how Virgil’s breath is picking up, his heart rate rising, his pupils dilating. He needs to deal with this before he has another one of his… moments of weakness.

A solar blast strikes the left side of the ship, throwing it off balance and sending the two men stumbling. It collides with a small slice of the planet’s inner mechanism – practically a pillar – and sends both men overboard. Declan grips the ledge of the ship with his robotic hand, keeping it in place. Virgil sails over his head, flailing frantically. His back smacks into the angled top of the pillar and he starts to slide down it, clawing for any sort of purchase. Virgil keeps falling, the angle of the pillar sending him flying into another piece of the mechanism, smacking into its side. He scrambles to grab at the jagged metal edges, the severed pipes sticking out, grooves in the metal, anything. He grips a pipe with all his strength, holding on by the skin of his teeth.

The solar blast continues its journey, slicing into the ship, carving it in half. Declan swears, hands gripping the ship’s ledge and feet scrambling to keep purchase on the pillar. “Oh no you don’t!” He cries out, pulling on the ship with all his strength, slowly walking back on the pillar and managing to pull the ship away from the beam. Morph flits around right in front of Declan’s face, making distressed noises and waving his little blob arms around. “Wha-“ Morph flits about, getting Declan’s robotic eye to catch Virgil’s movement and lock onto him. Declan watches as Virgil desperately tries to get something underfoot to better hold himself, failing and nearly completely losing his grip until the last second.

Declan’s heart nearly skips a beat. “Virge…” He lets go of the ship long enough to change his hand into a clamp, clamping down on the ledge and stretching to reach for Virgil. With this function, there’s a little extra extension in the arm; Declan just hopes it’s enough. He stretches as much as he can, reaching for Virgil, wiggling his fingers as if that will help. “Reach, Virge! Reach!”

Virgil reaches for Declan’s hand, their fingertips just inches from meeting but Virgil is too scared to stretch too far and lose his grip. “I- I can’t!” He calls back. The slight tremor in his voice betrays just how scared he is right now, and once again Declan is reminded how young Virgil really is. The metal the human’s holding onto sinks back into the base and Virgil loses his purchase, flailing and screaming as he drops fifteen feet before managing to grab onto something else. It’s so hot, he’s closer to the magma now and it’s making the very air around them harder to breathe. The sweat on his skin is making it harder to keep his hold.

Declan looks between the ship with its treasures – his life’s dream – and Virgil, struggling to keep his hold. He grits his teeth; his arm won’t extend any further and Virgil wasn’t going to last much longer. With a heavy sigh, he makes a decision. “I’m a damn  _idiot_.” He mutters to himself before he lets go of the ship, changing from his clamp to his robotic hand. He tumbles off the pillar, grabbing it with his robotic hand at the last second. He reaches out for Virgil’s hand, gripping him around his wrist just as he loses his grip. For a moment the two hang there, Virgil’s heart racing a mile a minute and Declan smiling from the adrenaline high.

Declan swings Virgil back up to the pillar and Virgil pulls himself up, followed by Declan. The two sit across from each other catching their breath and look up just in time to see their ride out come in contact with the solar beam. The ship explodes, sending gold and jewels raining down, and the two cover their heads to protect themselves out of instinct, even if the ship is too far off for anything to hit them.

* * *

Declan and Virgil stumble through the gateway, pausing just a couple feet away to catch their breath. Virgil looks up at Declan incredulously. “Declan, you- you gave up-!”

Declan waves him off with a sly grin. “Just a  _life-long_  obsession, Virge. I’ll  _get over_  it.” Morph rubs against Declan’s face, making him laugh breathlessly.

“Aloha!”

The sudden wind rips at their hair and clothes. The two men look up to see a ship slowly descending. Patton leans over the edge, holding his compass and sowing the back of it, which has a countdown ticking away in bright red. “Hurry up, you guys! We got exactly two minutes and forty-seven seconds until ka-blamo!!” Virgil and Declan share a worried look.

“Doing good, Specs.” Roman mutters from where he sits against the mast, behind Logan who’s steering the ship. “Now just… ease her over gently.” Logan turns the wheel and the ship lurches slightly. “Gently!” Logan grits his teeth, feeling wholly uncomfortable and out of his element. The ship’s side collides with the cliff Declan and Virgil are standing on, jostling the pirates tied up below deck. As soon as the ship is close enough Virgil is scrambling on board, grabbing Declan’s forearms as the ship starts to rise again and hauling him on deck as well.

“Take us out of here, metal man!” Roman calls to Patton, who stands at the controls. Patton looks at Roman over his shoulder and salutes.

“Aye aye, captain!”

Declan pauses on his way up the stairs to lean against the rail and smile up at Roman. “Captain, you flew down from the heavens in the nick of ti-“

“Save your blabbering for the judge,  _Moran_.” Roman adjusts his coat and walks off, leaving Declan to wrap his head around that little bomb.

The judge. He was going to be tried and convicted as a pirate. Probably for murder as well – or at the least, attempted murder. Declan laughs nervously and shares a look with Morph, who is back to floating around his shoulders.

A piece of debris from the planet sails through the air and smashes into one of the solar sails, splintering the mast and bringing the sail down. The broken piece of mast falls to the deck, crashing into a light canon and breaking it, too. The thrusters grow weaker, the ship slowly starting to descend.

“We’ve taken damage, thrusters only at thirty percent capacity!” Patton calls out, tapping away at the controls.

Logan frowns. “Thirty percent? We’ll never clear the explosion in time.”

Virgil leans over the ledge to watch the planet fall apart behind them. Solar beams still shoot out from the planet’s core and the gateway is still open, the surface of the planet slowly coming apart; the cause of the debris that took out their sail. Virgil looks over to the broken mast and light canon, spotting the small thruster puttering out beside the mess. He quickly forms a plan and hops over the ledge down to the lower deck. “We need to turn around.”

“What?” Roman calls after him incredulously. Declan watches Virgil running about gathering seemingly random supplies as he talks.

“There’s a portal back there! It can get us out of here!”

Declan catches onto Virgil’s plan, his robotic eye locating the map down on the planet’s rapidly deteriorating surface. It was a long shot, but if anyone can do it, Virgil can.

“Pardon me, Virgil, but doesn’t that portal lead to a raging inferno?” Logan shouts, and somehow even with a slight panic in his tone he still manages to sound condescending. Virgil rolls his eyes, grunting as he pries a chunk of metal out of the debris.

“ _Yes_ , but I’m gonna change that. I’m gonna open a different door.”

Logan turns to Roman. “Captain, I just don’t see the point. I don’t see how this could possibly be a realistic-“

“Just listen to the boy!” Declan snarls as he makes his way over to Virgil.

“One minute, twenty-nine seconds until planet destruction!”

Declan crouches down beside Virgil. “What do you need?”

“Just- some way to attach this.” Virgil replies as he grabs a length of rope, positioning it to tie the thruster to a slab of metal. Declan gets up and moves to the other side of Virgil’s little project, switching his hand for a blowtorch.

“Stand back.”

Virgil scoots back and lets Declan solder the thruster to the metal slab, then the two lift it and carry it to the ship’s ledge, where Virgil hops up and gets into position. “Okay. No matter what happens, keep the ship heading straight for that portal.” Virgil looks Declan in the eyes, and all arguments die before they can reach the cyborg’s tongue. They both know this is the best and only chance they have. He nods, lips pursed, and watches as Virgil kick-starts the thruster and takes off.


	17. Chapter 16

Declan steps back from the ledge, turning to face the remaining members on deck. “Well you heard him! Turn this damn thing around!”

Roman’s ears perk up and he seems to consider it for a moment before turning to Logan. “Specs, turn the ship back towards the portal.”

Logan sighs. “Aye aye, captain.” He cranks the wheel, turning the ship completely around and sending it towards the portal.

* * *

Virgil sails through floating debris, using them as a sort of kickboard or just grinding against them in passing, maneuvering through the mess effortlessly. The thruster gives out and he stomps on his igniter again to relight it, flying straight for the map that still floats in front of the gateway. He descends closer to the planet, bobbing and weaving through giant chunks of metal and fire. If he were to close his eyes, it would almost feel like racing through the canyons of Montressor again, only this time everything else is moving. And there’s fire. And he could die, very easily.

Okay, he needs to focus.

Virgil reacts on a dime, crouching down to sail under one chunk of debris, then straightening up and leaning to the left to avoid another. He grinds against one of them before shooting off once again. The wing pulls at his hair and his clothes and makes his eyes water slightly. The heat of the fires warms his skin. It really is just like the canyons; here, like this, all thoughts are silenced. Here, he can focus on the feeling of the wind rushing by, the heat of the fire, the angle of his surfer, how fast he’s flying. All thoughts are on making it through this alive, making it to the map and switching the portal. He can’t mess this up. Not this.

* * *

The I.M.G.Nation, unfortunately, isn’t being piloted by someone as reactive as Virgil. Logan focuses on the portal up ahead and trying to follow Virgil, resulting in the ship scraping against large debris on more than one occasion. Roman watches helplessly as Logan practically tears his baby apart with his naivety, trying to futilely call out directions.

“To the right- no, the  _right_!”

Logan glares at the captain over his shoulder. “I know, I know! Will you just let me drive!”

Roman blinks in surprise, taken aback. He leans back against the mast, silent.

“Twenty-five seconds!” Patton screams, his eyes flashing red.

Logan grits his teeth and yanks the wheel to the left.

* * *

Virgil’s thruster goes out, sputtering pathetically before completely dying. He keeps stomping on the kick-starter but nothing happens, making him look back with a desperate plea in his mind. It seems the thruster just ran out of power, since this solar surfer doesn’t have a solar sail to power it. Virgil turns around to see an abyss rapidly approaching and panics, his heart jumping into his throat. “No no no no no!” Virgil keeps stomping on the kick-starter as he and the board descend into the abyss, spinning lazily in circles and slowly gaining momentum. The heat of the fire and magma below grows more and more apparent with each second, only serving to drive the panic in deeper.

Declan watches as Virgil disappears into the abyss, his heart squeezing painfully in his chest. “Come on…”

“SEVENTEEN SECONDS!” Patton screams.

Virgil is more than halfway down when the idea hits. He throws his body weight to the side, sending him towards one wall of the abyss and angling so the thruster takes the brunt of the impact, grinding it against the metal wall as his descent continues. He grits his teeth and clenches his fists, his fingernails digging into his palms but he can’t feel it over his erratic heartbeat. Sparks fly from the thruster until it finally ignites. Virgil shouts in victory and angles the board up, shooting out of the abyss just as the I.M.G.Nation passes overhead.

“Seven!”

He shoots past them from underneath.

“Six!”

He pulls ahead of them, angling towards the map.

“Five!”

He reaches out.

“Four!”

He’s nearly touching it.

“Three!”

His finger taps the green holograph.

“Two!”

The portal changes.

“One!”

Virgil and the I.M.G.Nation sail through the portal just as Treasure Planet explodes, the remnants of the inferno and some debris following them into space before the portal closes, the map destroyed along with the planet. The I.M.G.Nation gradually slows now that the threat has passed. Virgil rises up to sail above the ship, pumping his fists, whooping and hollering with the biggest smile on his face. That was easily the greatest adrenaline rush he’d ever gotten but… he would definitely not be repeating that anytime soon.

On the deck of the I.M.G.Nation, Declan is right there cheering with Virgil, watching him sail around the ship and laughing along with him. Virgil sails close to the deck, reaching out to high-five Declan as Morph turned into fireworks and exploded with fanfare. Declan grins, watching Virgil continue his victory laps. “Didn’t I say he had  _greatness_  in him?”

That strange feeling was back in his chest, and now that he didn’t have a crew of murderous pirates breathing down his neck he could finally admit what that feeling was.

Love.

* * *

Virgil brings the surfer down to grind on the I.M.G.Nation’s ledge before stepping off of it and onto the deck, letting the surfer sail off into space. As soon as his feet are on solid wood, Morph is rubbing against him and licking his cheek. Virgil laughs lightly and scritches at Morph’s head with a finger, looking up as Roman and Logan approach. Morph flits off to sit on Declan’s shoulder, Declan standing at the base of the stairs.

“That was… insane, but… Very effective.” Roman laughs lightly. “I think I’ll have to recommend you to the Interstellar Academy. They could use a man like you.”

“And I believe your mother would rather enjoy hearing about all that you’ve done on our journey. Though… Perhaps, for her health, we should leave out the life-threatening parts.” Virgil rolls his eyes but nudges Logan, showing the doctor that he wasn’t mad.

Patton walks up to Virgil, bouncing on the balls of his robotic feet. “Virge, that was… Unforgettable! I know you don’t like touching, but… Get ready for a hug, kiddo!” Patton wraps his arms around Virgil and laughs happily, letting out a surprised sound when Virgil hugs him back and spins him around before setting the robot down. Patton blinks and takes a step back to process. “You… hugged me back! Ooh, I promised myself I wouldn’t cry!” Patton wipes a tear from his eye, leaning his head on Virgil’s shoulder. He lets out a soft wail and throws himself at Virgil, who just laughs lightly and wraps his arms around the robot, patting his back.

Virgil looks up to address Declan, but his smile fades when he doesn’t see the cyborg anywhere on deck.

* * *

Morph chitters at Declan’s side as Declan works to untie the longboat from its holding place. Declan looks up at the pink blob, chiding it softly. “Morph, come on now, we need to  _leave_.”

“You never quit, do you?”

Declan’s eyes widen before he sets his face into its usual smirk, turning to talk to Virgil. “Ah, Virg-o. I was just checking to make sure our last longboat was  _safe_ and  _secure_.” He reties the rope he’d just undone, not looking Virgil in the eye. Virgil walks over to Declan, couching down next to him with a thinking face. He undoes the poor job Declan just did and reties it as tight as he can, smiling up at the cyborg.

“That should hold it.”

Declan laughs lightly, standing up and dusting off his pants. “I taught  _you_  well.” Virgil gives him an unimpressed look. “Look… We just want to avoid prison.  _Morph_  is a free spirit,  _he_  would be miserable locked up day in and day out.” Declan gives Virgil pleading eyes, and Virgil matches the look with a serious blank expression. After a moment, the teen cracks and allows the tiniest of smiles on his face. Declan raises an eyebrow as Virgil walks away, only to smile when Virgil stops and flips the switch to open up the ship’s underbelly.

“You should sail with us!” Declan wraps an arm around Virgil and Morph turns into a tricorn, settling himself on Virgil’s head. “You and me. Shae and Moran. Full of  _ourselves_  and no ties to  _anyone_.”

Virgil steps away and sighs with a smile, taking Morph off his head and petting him when he turns back into a blob. “You know… When I first got on this ship, I would have taken you up on that in a second. But… I met this old cyborg, and he taught me that I could be anything, chart my own course…” Declan smiles fondly and Virgil looks out the ship’s opening. “That’s what I’m gonna do.”

Declan moves to stand beside Virgil, looking out into space with him. “And what do you see? For this friend of yours?”

“A future.”

Declan laughs. He turns to fully face Virgil and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Look at you. You’re glowing like a solar flyer. You… You’re something special, Virgil. You’re going to rattle the stars.”

Virgil purses his lips, blinking to hold back the sudden tears making his eyes feel hot. Declan opens his arms and Virgil doesn’t hesitate to hug the cyborg, listening to the beating of his heart. At least some things can’t be replaced. After a moment Declan pulls back and clears his throat. “There’s grease in my eye.” He mutters, turning away to wipe at his eyes. Virgil rolls his eyes with a soft smile, wiping away tears of his own.

Morph starts crying, turning himself into a puddle of tears that Virgil catches in his hands. “Aw, Morph… Don’t worry, I’ll see you around, okay?”

“See you around.” Morph mimics, his voice trembling. He flits back over to Declan and settles on his outstretched hand. Declan looks between Morph and Virgil, bringing Morph closer to him to speak in a quiet voice.

“Morph, I have a job for you.” Morph chitters and points to himself. “I need you to keep an eye on this… little pup.” Virgil’s eyes widen in realization. Morph smiles. “Will you… Do me that favor?” Declan finishes, tearing up once again. Morph nods and solutes Declan before rubbing against him happily and flitting back over to Virgil. Declan gets in the longboat and starts lowering it through the opening below.

“Oh, and one more thing,” He reaches into his pocket and tosses up a handful of gold and jewels to Virgil. “For your dad, to rebuild that Inn of yours.”

Virgil watches Declan descend with a smile. “Stay out of trouble, you snake.”

Declan laughs as he starts the longboat’s thrusters. “Why, Virg-o, when have I ever done  _otherwise_?” And then he’s flying off once again, leaving Virgil behind.


	18. Chapter 17

Thomas Shae looks around the busy spaceport like a tourist seeing aliens for the first time. It’s not as if his knowledge of the galaxy was so lacking that he was getting some kind of culture shock; it was more along the lines of the sheer number of people present that was freaking him out. He gripped his brown leather jacket tightly, looking around one more time to see if he could spot Virgil from where he was standing. Someone put their hand on his shoulder and he stiffens, ready to tell them off when he’s spun around. He barely has a moment to register that this is Virgil, his baby boy is home, before Virgil is pulling him into a hug that he doesn’t hesitate to return. When they pull apart, Morph pops up from inside Virgil’s pocket and floats in front of Thomas’ face, chittering happily and rubbing against him before flying off. Thomas laughs lightly in bewilderment.

“Virgil, what was that… thing?”

Virgil smiles and wraps an arm around his dad, guiding him towards the ship. “Dad, have we got a story to tell you.”

* * *

Morph turns himself into a pair of scissors, snipping the large red ribbon in front of the front door. In front of said front door is Thomas, Patton, Roman, and Morph, surrounded by dozens of supportive friends, neighbors, and customers of all species. Cameras flash as Thomas poses in front of the new Mind Palace Inn, smiling brightly, the joy in his chest nearly suffocating.

The new Mind Palace Inn has a base similar to the old Inn, with added floors and extensions to give Thomas and Virgil more space while also making more space for potential customers. There isn’t a single out-of-place patch anywhere on the roofs, the whole building looking elegant yet modest in a light cream color with bronze metal accents.

The celebration commemorating the opening of the Inn lasts well into the night, Patton running around serving everyone like a pro, balancing eight cake plates with no trouble at all. Thomas had readily accepted Morph and Patton into their small family, and he was more than grateful when Patton expressed a desire to help run the Inn. He said that without a planet to protect, he needed to find a new purpose to fill his days, “So why not help Virge’s dad!” Roman and Logan have started to get along, choosing to focus on light-hearted company rather than delving into the messy impressions they gave each other on the expedition. So far, their longest streak of hanging out without fighting has been two days.

And Virgil….

The front door of the Inn bursts open, the dark silhouette of two robot cops looming in the doorway. A few stifled gasps break the sudden silence; it isn’t hard to tell that everyone’s worried Virgil is back to his old ways. The two officers wheel into the Inn, Thomas getting ready for a rather disappointing discussion, but it never comes. The cops move aside to reveal Virgil in the doorway, hair out of his face and wearing a pristine white uniform with gold accents.

Roman leans in to whisper to Logan, “You know, I rocked that design nearly a decade before him,” to which Logan just rolls his eyes.

The entire Inn erupts in cheers. Virgil shakes the hand of one of the cops while the other solutes him, then they both leave and Thomas is running over to pull his son into a bone-crushing hug.

* * *

With Mrs. Dunwiddie taking up… well, every instrument, the real party began. The Shaes danced with their friends and neighbors late into the night, only calling it quits when nearly everyone was gone. Even Roman somehow talked Logan into a dance before the night was over, though Virgil is pretty sure Logan might be a little drunk.

Once the party was officially declared over and the only remaining people were the ones sleeping over that night, Thomas pulled Virgil aside and pulled him into another hug. This one felt more, somehow, with Thomas’ hands on the back of Virgil’s head and between his shoulder blades. Virgil was more than drowsy, not used to staying up so late and definitely not used to throwing parties, but he’s pretty sure he heard his dad right.

“I’m so, so proud of you, Virgil.”

Virgil hugs his dad back with a soft sigh. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”


End file.
